Weekends With Doris
by scousemuz1k
Summary: Takes place after 'Singled Out'. Tony's struggling to keep the mask in place, but he has a friend to talk to.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Takes place about a week after 'Singled Out', which is an episode that still rankles with me years later. **

**Duet exists. Belinda's Creek... nope.**

Weekends With Doris

by scousemuz1k

Chapter 1

It had been a bit of a mistake to leave the soft-top down, Tony thought as he drove. He'd known the weather was turning with the season, and it wasn't as warm these days as the summer had been. It was with the thought in mind that soon he'd have to put the top up permanently for the winter that he'd left it down this one last time. But evening was drawing in; he'd stop somewhere for coffee and put it up. (Not electric, the guy had said when he'd bought her; he hadn't cared then, didn't care now.) He'd hoped to get away a little earlier, but if Gibbs had got wind of _that_, of course, he'd still _be_ there. Nothing like asserting your authority for the sake of it, Boss... And he'd been looking forward to this too much to take the risk.

Weekends where they weren't on call came round just often enough for them not to be able to complain that they _never_ had any free time; weekends when they weren't even on standby were fewer still. Especially when he was running the team and working ops for Jenny...

He smiled in spite of the chill wind. Heading for the latest in a line of infrequent, wonderful weekends with Doris, he knew that by the time he returned to work on Monday, he'd be able to carry on as normal. He'd tell her his troubles, she'd listen wisely; the mask would be firmly put back in place, and hopefully a good deal of the pain and confusion twisting in his heart would be sloughed off in the hills. It wasn't their fault, he told Doris often enough. They didn't know they were doing it.

"_Y'see," _he'd told her one time,_ "I __**chose**__ to follow Gibbs. I came with him from Baltimore, and just... stayed... I knew I could learn more from him than from any other cop or fed I'd ever met... and... believe it or not, I __**liked**__ him." _

He sighed._ "Now, I can do alpha male as loud as anyone, but he always knew that since I'd signed on with him for the long haul, I wouldn't. And I didn't, unless it was really necessary... I'll tell you about Moby Dick some time... And I don't... still... although he doesn't remember how it was... and he thinks he's got to do it with me. Slap down DiNozzo every time he opens his mouth... he doesn't have to let me know he's the Boss. I acknowledged that a long time ago. But hey, the only thing he's teaching me these days is patience."_

Doris had just looked thoughtful. She knew about patience.

He almost unconsciously stepped a little harder on the gas pedal; the Princess surged forward with a happy growl.

A smile crept onto his face as he remembered the first time he'd mentioned Doris to the team...

"_You cannot be complaining about having a weekend off, McGee," Ziva was saying incredulously as Tony came back from autopsy. "The Director takes us off rotation so we can 'regroup as a team', and you do not want the time off?"_

_Tim frowned. "That's not quite what she meant, Ziva... more like recuperate. Since we went back **on** rotation after the B- Gibbs left, we've not caught a break. I think we need a rest... but if Ducky's report doesn't clearly say 'suicide', then we're not going to get it anyway, so I'm not getting my hopes up."_

"_Fear not, then, McPragmatism Personified." Tony handed Ducky's report to his rather new SFA. "Barbiturates and booze, Ducky says administered orally, as she sat in her car. No signs of struggle. We found no evidence at the scene of any other person present. Then Lieutenant Estes drove off... and it's sheer good fortune that she didn't take anyone else with her when the inevitable happened." He clapped his hands. "Three days break, children. Get gone. Enjoy."_

"_You are looking very pleased, Tony. I take it you have plans?"_

_Tony simply couldn't help himself. His eyes danced. "Oh, yes. I intend to spend the entire weekend with Doris." His grin was huge._

"_Doris... that is... an old-fashioned name, yes?"_

"_I guess you could say she's an old-fashioned girl." His eyes grew dreamy. "She's lovely...dark brown hair, huge, gentle brown eyes... she's always pleased to see me, not at all demanding... we talk for hours. I get more sense out of her than out of most people we meet..."_

"_She seems too good to be true, and ideal for you, Tony."_

"_Well, she loves me the way I am, that's true. And she's met a fair few people in her time."_

"_So, she's not a young thing then?" Tim couldn't help joining in, although a nagging thought suggested something might be going on; he just couldn't put his finger on it._

"_No, she's not a co-ed, McSuspicious. She used to be on the rodeo circuits, you know, so she's seen a lot of life... she has amazing stamina -"_

"_Oh, you are a pig, Tony! You are dating her for her staying power?"_

_Tony just smiled beatifically and picked up his pack. "I'm off, he said happily. "Enjoy your break."_

Doris had been mentioned a few times in passing since then, but it wasn't so much fun any more. He'd thought he'd pulled them together as a team; the tide of a hundred and one variations on the theme of 'you're not Gibbs' didn't recede altogether, but it did ebb. There was a seriousness about them all, however, which only intensified when Agent Lee joined them. The weight of their feelings of abandonment was so heavy on_ his_ shoulders he seldom felt like joking; Tim and Ziva occasionally shared a smile, but they never involved either him or Michelle.

As they came towards free time, Tim would sometimes ask, "So, are you seeing Doris this weekend?" Tony would smile and say that yes, he was, enjoy your time off, and that would be that.

He was beginning to think that maybe they were achieving stability; maybe they could all start lightening up soon; maybe that tide would never come in again – and Gibbs came back. Came back in response to a summons that he was never involved in, or even told about. Came back and made fun of how he handled things. Went. Came back. Made fun of how he handled things. Piled his things back on his old desk, turfed poor Lee back to Legal. Basked in the delight of _his_ team.

That weekend he _fled_ down to the hills and Doris.

He'd even managed most of a Wednesday with her last week, when an assignment from the Director had finished early, and he simply hadn't had the heart to return to the Yard. He'd found some plausible excuse later; only to hear Gibbs describe his efforts on Jenny's behalf as 'running errands'. Sometimes he thought he was at his wits' end; most of the time he knew he'd no alternative but to suck it up and carry on. And the only one he'd ever allow to join in his pity party was his beloved Doris.

The sun was beginning to drop and he was getting cold; Ducky would have something to say if he endangered his lungs by breathing in cold air... he thought of the warmth of Spain that he'd turned down, and almost wept. He knew he'd made the right decision... he rather thought he'd made the wrong decision... hell, he hadn't a clue. He saw his favourite diner up ahead; where he habitually stopped. It wasn't that the journey was long, but he sometimes left straight from the Navy Yard and needed feeding; he sometimes needed to just chill: Doris would always wait.

The cheerful woman behind the counter beamed delightedly when she saw him. "Tony! Just can't keep away, can you?"

"Aw, you know me, Liz... I come here for your smile every time. Latte and a Danish, please, darlin'."

"Sure, honey... oh – hey, I've got something for you." She reached under the counter, and produced a small folder.

"Hey, my map! I didn't really expect to see that again."

"Oh, the guy came by on Wednesday, with that cute little lad of his... asked if you were likely to be back this way. I told him sure, he said to tell you thanks for the loan, and the chat, they'd both been a big help."

"Well, that's good... how was the little guy?"

"More outgoing than last time they were here... what was it all about?"

"He lost his mom, Liz."

"Aw," the barista said with instant sympathy, "Poor little fella." Tony nodded sadly as he picked up his tray. He went to sit at the same table he'd sat at that day, and gazed unseeingly through the window, thinking back to the week before Gibbs' return. He'd been hungry...

_As he stepped out of his car, he was just in time to see a youngish blond man and a young boy with the same tow coloured hair, standing by a FWD, spreading a map across the hood. The wind caught it, and it blew out of the small boy's hands, and he tried to run after it. Tony reached up and caught it as it flew over his head, and took it back to him. He noticed that both the father and son had seen his gun and badge on his belt as he'd stretched._

"_Thanks," the man said with a smile. "I guess Adam's legs aren't long enough yet."_

"_My pleasure. Are you just coming or just going? You might find it easier to look at in your car or in the diner."_

"_You're right," the younger man said ruefully. He nodded towards the gas station next door."Just filled up and got the map - looks like your advice has already been taken."_

_Adam was standing on the steps of the coffee house, dragging a book out of the back-pack he carried, and looking impatient. His father hurried after him, and Tony followed at a more leisurely pace._

_When he got inside, he saw that the young father was trying to get his son interested in the tank of colourful fish near the door, although the seven year old was clutching his book determinedly; so Tony still found himself ahead of the two in the line._

"_Hey, Tony," Liz greeted him. " You going down to Duet again?"_

"_As ever. I just love the forest, ya know?"_

_As they chatted about the area until she'd finished serving him, he was aware that Adam's dad was openly listening to their comments. The agent was good at anticipating, and went to sit by the window, at a table with plenty of room. He wasn't wrong; the father and son came over. The gun and badge seemed to have set the man at ease._

"_Look... hope you don't mind – you seem to know this region, huh?"_

"_Sure. Join me, please." He gestured at the seats, and the two sat down. _

"_We don't... but we heard it was good for camping, so we came down to have a look. Simon Townley." He stuck out his hand. _

"_Tony DiNozzo."_

"_You're a cop, right?"_

"_Fed. At a guess, you're a Marine." He smiled at the younger man's surprise. "Hey... I worked for one for a few years." He went on smiling, never mind how much it hurt. _

"_Yeah, I'm with the Corps," Simon said. "CWO2. Don't know how long for, though." He looked at his son, who was already absent-mindedly munching his sandwich, his nose buried in his book, and shook himself. "Thought it might be good to take Adam... get him out of himself for a bit." _

_Tony could see there was a story here; he recognised pain in someone's eyes when he saw it, and there was something sad and unsettling about the little boy turning himself insistently inwards, but he wasn't going to pry. It would emerge if Simon Townley wanted it to. 'Funny,' Tony thought, 'I nearly didn't stop …' _

"_Well," he said thoughtfully, gesturing at the other man's map. "That's not really what you want for camping." He reached down and fished in his backpack. "You need this one," he went on, passing it across. "It shows you the topography, and official camp sites. Camping just anywhere is frowned on, it's not always safe – what have I said?"_

_Simon smiled wryly. "Nothing, really. I suppose camping where there are other people might be better for him, especially if there are other children there. I had this idea of being alone with him... showing him a bit of nature..."_

_Tony waited._

"_I'm not one of these macho military dads who wants his son to be a he-man," the marine said finally. "He's a bookworm, and that's good. His thirst for knowledge is huge – he got that from his mom. She was a schoolteacher."_

_Was. Tony got that. Ouch. Townley couldn't have been more than twenty-seven... thirty at most. The Marine glanced at him, as if seeking permission to go on. He must have seen what he needed to see, Tony reflected._

"_We lost her four months ago," Simon went on, and had no idea of the punch to the guts that his listener felt. "None of us had any idea Jessica had a heart problem... it was just out of the blue. I was in Bosnia... the Corps were just what you'd expect; they rallied round... but it took me forty-eight hours to get back. By then Adam had been collected from school by a social worker and passed around like a parcel... he's had his head in a book ever since. It's how he's dealing. I think he blames me for not being there."_

_He shook his head sadly. "They found me a nine-to-five posting... I've a decent child-minder to look after him until I get home... but the Corps can't be kind for ever. I'd have to deploy in the end."_

_Tony nodded. "The world doesn't stop for one bereaved little boy, or his Dad."_

_The little boy looked up, and his grey eyes met Tony's. "My mommy died," he said in a sharp little voice, and turned firmly back to the book._

"_I'm about to turn in my warrant," his father said. "I..."_

_Again, Tony said it for him. "You lost your wife, now you're losing the Corps. Bad."_

"_Yeah... but **he** comes first."_

_Tony bit his lip and nodded. "Hey," he said to Adam, pointing to the title of the book: 'The Junior Engineer'. "You're interested in technology... engineering... machinery stuff?"_

_Adam looked up again. His expression said 'yes, why,' although he didn't answer._

"_Well," Tony spoke to both of them, "There's a camp site that might interest you. It usually closes down at the end of October, but that gives you a few weeks yet. There are students and enthusiasts and tutors and professors up there... history, technology, archaeology... you know? They discovered one of the oldest water mills in the country, and they're digging it out and they plan to get it going again. It's not an official camp-site... but they welcome people – some of them have their families up there..."_

_He pointed on the map. "It's here, near Duet, Belinda's Creek. They call it Belinda's Mill."_

"_Who was Belinda?" Adam asked._

"_I have no idea... but the people there would know."_

_Adam looked at his father enquiringly._

"_Would you like to go there, Son?"_

"_Yes, Daddy."_

"_OK, we'll go and have a look, and see if it's OK, and if it is, we'll come back next week and camp there." _

"_Keep the map," Tony said as he rose to his feet. He sensed that there'd been a tiny breakthrough, and he'd been in the way. Simon Townley offered his hand again. "Thanks," he said softly._

"My pleasure," Tony murmured very softly as he drained his coffee. Maybe he'd meet them again one day... he pocketed his map, waved cheerfully to Liz and headed back out to his car.

Twenty minutes later, with the hood up, he turned the Mustang very slowly and carefully onto the drive up to Sal and Amos's stables; sometimes there were riders or led horses, and the Princess's engine could be alarming. He coasted into a parking slot with the motor switched off, and before he'd even stepped out of the car, he heard Amos's cheerful voice.

"DiNozzo! Was expecting you an hour ago! Don't tell me you stopped to eat... Sal's made a casserole!"

"Amos, she doesn't have to feed me... you know that."

"Ah, but she likes to, Tony. You know that."

Tony chuckled; this place did wonders for him. "Can't think why she wants to mother me... Doris won't like it if I put weight on."

"You know damn well why, Son."

Tony did, but he still felt embarrassed about it; he'd been doing his job. Walking into the middle of a convenience store robbery; a uniformed officer in a quandary about what to do, as Sally Frame tried to stay calm as she stared at the wicked looking knife held close to her husband's neck... Tony had taken the simple step of shooting out the jumbo-sized bottle of soda next to the robber's head and dousing him in dandelion and burdock. So now the Frames thought the sun shone out of his fundamental orifice; he got to come down here any time he liked, and Sal insisted on feeding him.

An impatient thunk brought him back to the present.

"Don't keep the lady waiting," Amos said, and he didn't mean Sal.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," Tony called, and heard a pleased huff as he reached back into the Mustang to retrieve the pack of home-made treacle sandwiches that sat on the passenger seat. Two huge brown eyes regarded him eagerly as he walked up the yard to the loose boxes, and Doris kicked the bottom of the half-door again. "Hey, Darlin', have you missed me?"

He broke open the foil wrapping, and her dark brown nose twitched and butted at him hopefully.

"Aw, you're anyone's for a treacle butty, aren't you, gal?" he said fondly as the mare accepted her favourite delicacy. She huffed and nudged him again, out of pure affection this time. He rubbed her nose. "Doris," he said, "I've such a lot to tell you..."

TBC

**AN: Butty... Liverpool term, I don't know if it's used in the US. Nothing quite like a treacle butty.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: A bit of a filler chapter, with much introspection and not much going on... you know how paranoid I get about keeping your interest, but the action will be along soon.**

**Do I believe horses are telepathic? Film quote: You're darn tootin'. Tony'd know which film.**

**B, I put a teeny bit in for you, hope you liked!**

Weekends With Doris

Chapter 2

Behind the tack room was a shower and toilet; above it was a tiny, dry loft with a cot, a chair and a camping stove. It was Tony's favourite place in the world. Sally had repeatedly offered him the guest room at the house; he'd kept on declining with a variety of smiled excuses, until she'd given up, shaking her head in despair.

"What is it with that guy, that he'll get attached to a _horse,_ but keeps people at a distance?" she grumbled.

"I don't know, Sass, maybe cops have noisy nightmares... he surely wears that gun as if he knows how to use it, and I don't mean shooting soda bottles."

Sally shook her head. "Something's made him the way he is... I'd like to get my hands on them."

"That's some_one_, love, not something," Amos pointed out, and his wife shrugged.

"Whatever fits. Doris, us... we're a _coping mechanism_... I don't mind, I just worry."

"Yeah, sweetie, me too."

It was early, but they could hear Tony moving quietly about in the yard. They knew he'd check all the other horses' feed nets or mangers, make sure all the automatic water bowls were working, and turn out the animals who still lived in the paddocks during the day. He'd also run a not so practised, but learning eye over their general state, and leave a note on the kitchen table if there was anything he didn't like. Amos and Sally sighed, and revelled in their extra forty minutes in bed at the same time that they fretted about the man who made it possible.

Doris stood sleepily outside her box, untethered, but waiting for Tony contentedly. The saddle he brought out looked like a big Mexican rig, but it was modern, and on a lightweight carbon-fibre frame, and weighed less than half as much as a traditional outfit. He'd have ridden her bareback if he'd thought he was good enough, but he knew a day doing that would kill him even if he managed to stay on board, and anyway he needed the saddle to hang things on. He'd added a water canteen, although they were seldom far from a creek, two serapes rolled up behind the saddle, and a lariat on the horn, simply because it looked good. Poser or not, he might find it useful one day.

He didn't carry a rifle; bears and cougars were as rare around here as a 'well done' from Gibbs; but a saddle bag with a substantial lunch and more treats for Doris was essential. He gave her an apple from his back pocket, and she ducked her head obligingly into the hackamore he held out. Amos had known the first time he worked with her that she didn't need a bit, and that was something that had made Tony happy from day one. Some of the 'spade' bits that rodeo riders used, he couldn't even bear to look at.

She crunched the apple, and butted him hopefully, and he looked at her severely. "It's bad for your teeth," he said. Her look said _'So? Give.' _Tony looked round with exaggerated caution and produced the sugar cubes she knew he had. "See..." he rubbed her chocolate coloured neck... "anybody's for sweet stuff." He swung up into the saddle and tightened the latigo; not even a kind soul like Doris was above taking a deep breath as the cinch was fastened up – to let it out later. Many a rider had found themselves with a saddle on sideways... They headed out of the yard the back way, and along Tony's favourite trail. Amos stood at the bedroom window and watched them go.

_Somewhere in Canada, last fall..._

_He remembered this mare... maybe ten or twelve years old, liver chestnut, not a patch of white on her anywhere... he'd seen her last year and marvelled that such a big, raw-boned animal could bend and twist herself so well. She'd been the best barrel racer in the whole show, by a mile, and made her rider look better than he was. He wasn't particularly grateful, Amos had noted then, taking the plaudits for himself._

_He watched; this year the mare seemed a little slower. He wasn't surprised when she was beaten into second place by a younger animal; and sadly, he wasn't surprised at the way the rider lashed her across her nose with the ends of his reins. The man saw Amos looking at him._

"_She's getting slow," he said irritably. "Need to find myself an animal that can still do its job. Pity... she's smart. Reckon I'll just keep her for breeding for a while, see if I can get a foal a year out of her for three or four years... she might pass her smarts on. After that, she's done."_

_Amos stayed calm. "Has she been bred from before?"_

"_Nah."_

"_Risky, then, friend." It was. First time breeding with a mare that old was fraught with risks; in this case, Amos was pretty certain, the veterinary support would be lacking, to say nothing of the day to day care. He'd already assessed her; now as he looked at her standing patiently by, her head down and a thin line of blood on the bridge of her Roman nose, he came to a decision and went to work. _

"_Might just lose her, and your stud fee with her."_

_The man spat to the side. "She's on her way down."_

"_Give you a thousand for her, cash, as she stands. No history, no questions."_

"_Two. She's good rodeo breeding."_

"_Not lookin' to breed from her. She's what, thirteen? Fourteen?I came to buy stamina animals for trail riding. Fifteen ."_

_He didn't want to shake the man's hand, but made himself. As the guy removed his tack, and Amos produced a head-collar and the cash, the big brown horse stood looking at him solemnly. He tried something. "What d'you call her?"_

"_What?" As if it didn't matter. "Doris."_

_He shook the head-collar. "Doris... c'mere, gal." She came, trustingly. "Done," Amos said with satisfaction._

There was no doubt she was a highly people orientated horse, clearly regarding herself as part of the human herd; being with such an owner as her last one hadn't destroyed that. Even more clearly, she had a very soft spot for one particular human. Amos watched the two disappear up the trail, shook his head in wonder, and went to make a cup of tea for Sal.

The first part of the trail was level, and Doris was full of beans. The continual tossing of her head told Tony she wanted to run; after letting her warm up gently, he said "Go on then," and she exploded forwards. She quickly settled down to a ground eating lope, and since the noise of her hoof-beats was too loud for their usual one-way conversation, he waited until she'd run for as long as she felt like it, which was maybe a couple of miles, then brought her back to a walk just as gently.

"Feel better now? Good. Well, I told you I'd got a lot to tell you... that doesn't sound right, does it? Well, you know what I mean... You know I hoped things would settle down now the Boss was back? Sorta. Kinda. Hell, gal, not at all. See, he still doesn't remember everything, and sometimes we wait for him to give an instruction – what am I saying, with Gibbs it's an _order._.. If he doesn't say anything, I start to, and you know, as soon as I do – the very same moment, he starts, and then asks me if I want his job. It's as if he's baiting me.

"Wednesday night... I'd been up early – really early, doing a job at the airport for Jenny... and the night before that I'd been working for her... I could hardly keep my eyes open. Had a headache... The other two finished their reports and handed them in. I said look, I don't feel so good, I'll be in early, finish mine in the morning when I'm fresh. The other two stood happily back and waited for the eruption... 'Ya'll do it now, DiNozzo.' I tried to speak to him one to one, quietly... I said 'Come on, Boss, you know I've done it before, you know it'll get done.' Then I realised. 'Ah...you don't know.' He really didn't. He'd forgotten how I like to work when there's no-one else around... He'd forgotten that I _do_ work. He didn't care about being quiet..."

Tony's voice took on Gibbs' inflections with deadly accuracy, and Doris huffed curiously at the different tone she was hearing. "'No, I don't know, DiNozzo. I don't know how you're behind, and I don't care. I don't even know if you still work for me, or if you're the Director's errand boy. You don't leave until you're done.' And the other two chorused sweetly 'Good night, Tony,' and off they went. I finished my report, and still went in early on Thursday morning to check I hadn't made any mistakes. Thursday night, I had a pile of requisitions to sign off on, and he told us all to go. I expected him to say I had to stay to finish them, so I stayed where I was. Big, obvious stack of papers in front of me.'Did you hear me?' So I went. And yeah, you've guessed it – in the morning he wanted to know why the requisitions weren't done."

He fell silent for a while, as they wound their way among the tall, straight pine trunks. Was he exaggerating? If he was really, utterly honest with himself? Dammit, if he wasn't being honest he could kid himself everything was hunky-dory, and just carry on...

The other two, he could understand where they were coming from...

Come on, 'the other two'... Prob – no, since that night you've not called him that once – _Tim_ and _Ziva_... you're making them sound like a collective entity ganging up on you.

They are.

Like I said, you're exaggerating.

No, I'm not. They were left without Gibbs, and now they've got him back. They don't know they're doing it, because they just follow him. If it's OK for him, then it's OK for them too. It must be, because he never corrects them, right? Right?

Right... and he never speaks to me but to growl...

Sheesh, if both sides of the argument were agreeing, the pity party was starting up... Stop. Now.

A couple of paces more, and it was Doris who stopped, jerking her head up and huffing. He looked where she was looking, and they watched as a group of deer picked their way between the trees, only about ten yards away, but so well camouflaged in the dappled light that they were almost ghostly. There were young ones, on their spindly legs, who regarded the strange entity on the trail with great dark eyes, before vanishing with the rest of the herd. It was a picture to lift the spirits.

After a moment, Doris assumed her rider wanted to go on, and set off again.

They headed for Belinda's Mill, just to see if there was anyone still there – only two guys from a sanitation company loading up the portable loos onto the back of their truck. The camp was stowed neat and tidy, the mill protected by a carefully built coffer dam of planks and sandbags, so that the rains of winter wouldn't bring silt down to re-bury it. It would be a hive of activity again in the spring. Tony wondered if Simon and his son had made it up here, and how they were doing.

He thought of little Adam, he thought of _his_ mom... Senior... Jenny and this new, mysterious long term assignment she'd hinted at... he'd kidded himself up that at least now Gibbs was back he wouldn't be working so hard... he laughed out loud, and Doris looked round at him in surprise.

"Sorry, old gal, pay no attention to me..." Her nostrils fluttered as she replied with one of those snorts that made him swear she understood English. She could have been Ziva... "OK, less of the 'old', I know."

Something on the ground caught the sun and flashed, and Tony was curious enough to 'light down to see what it was. He picked it up and laughed again, to Doris's puzzlement; it was a badge, and he'd seen it before, attached to the front of a book. 'Junior Engineer', it said in bold red letters on their silver background, above a logo that looked like something Captain Kirk would wear. He put it in his pocket, and wondered if he'd ever be able to give it back to Adam... but thanks, universe, for letting me know they came here.

A slow climb later they arrived at his favourite lunch spot. A loggers' clearing among the tall trees was bisected by Belinda's Creek; erosion had left a random scene of stony beaches and undercut banks. Tony had named it Belinda's Secret. It was _his_ secret too. His and Doris's. He unsaddled her and removed the hackamore – unlike just about any other horse, and most of the humans he knew, he could trust her to stay with him. After demanding and getting treacle sandwiches, she settled down to the earnest business of lunch, as Tony leaned against his favourite tree at the water's edge, eating_ his_ lunch and tossing pebbles into the creek.

_They didn't know they were doing it... Did he? _The almost use of the P name had taken him back to _that_ night, the night he'd been told he didn't deserve his own team, and had then promptly gone and turned down the chance... suddenly the ciabata and bresaola he'd treated himself to tasted like cardboard, and it hurt to swallow. He teased... constantly... was he now just getting back what he'd always given? He could rationalise that the Probie thing, the McNicknames and all of that was to help McGee leave the stuttering, green-as-grass novice behind, and it was, and it had _worked._.. but he'd have done the same if the IT expert Gibbs had found the team had been a fifteen years veteran.

He sighed, and Doris swivelled an ear in his direction, keeping an eye on him although she never paused from her determined grass-cropping. A more experienced agent would have had a go right back at him, and they'd have had an on-going battle that would have been fun... Tim wasn't like that; had he gone too far and pushed the Probie – _McGee_ – over the edge?

And hell, he couldn't _begin_ to rationalise the why and wherefore of how things were between him and Ziva... she hadn't been any happier than Tim or Abby with his leadership, and since Gibbs' return they'd all four been writing the same blog. And Gibbs didn't even need McGee's help.

So... he had to just tough it out until Gibbs remembered him... remembered_ him_, the one he said was good, and brought back from Baltimore. The one who had his six...

He chose me, didn't he? He'll remember that one day.

Hmph. It better be soon.

It will be. It'll be OK.

He hadn't realised he'd said that aloud, until Doris lifted her head to look at him. She wandered over, wondering if it were time to move off again, and put her nose against his shoulder. Did she read his mood? Amos, and quite a few others he'd spoken to who'd been around them all their lives, told him seriously that yes, sure, horses are telepathic... well, he was sceptical, but somehow, she'd picked her moment. Bless. He rubbed her nose, and after a while he stood up, using her neck to haul himself to his feet. "OK, girl, you want to go, we'll go."

They made a long, leisurely circuit of the area, climbing one of the taller hills for a wonderful panoramic view, before heading on down past keeper ponds and farm buildings, timing it perfectly to see the sun set behind the tall trees as they arrived back at the yard. Tony rubbed Doris down, checked her feet and settled her in her box, with another treat and a pat of her neck, then went up to the house to let the Frames know he was back.

He was fed of course, and then somewhat tentatively asked if he wanted to lead a trail ride tomorrow, for four New Yorkers and two Spanish visitors. Sure. Why not.

It kept him occupied and too busy to think; he got to practise his Spanish, and eat a picnic devised by Sally that he'd remember with a happy sigh for a long time. (He took them to a different spot to eat it though, Belinda's Secret was still his.) Doris brought him back to his den exhausted enough to fall into a deep sleep; Amos noticed that he'd moved the Mustang out of the car park and left her pointing slightly downhill on the side of the dirt track. "He'll be away early, Sass" he told his wife ruefully.

Sure enough, they didn't hear him leave; he said goodbye to Doris before sun-up, and rolled the car down the hill without switching the engine on, so as not to disturb the Frames or the horses. He was back in DC and at his desk by six-thirty, and the requisitions were finished before Gibbs arrived.

The Boss didn't believe in coincidences; after working with him for so long, neither did Tony, but if this _wasn't _one, it was the complete opposite of the kindly fate yesterday. Hell, it was just about the most perverse worker of happenstance in the entire universe that looked down and thought, 'Hmm, DiNozzo's back on an even keel – I know_ just _what to do to put a stop to that...'

Gibbs arrived and grunted an acknowledgement of his presence, his glance falling on the folder of requisition forms sitting in the tray waiting for the internal mailman to collect them. He said nothing, but sat down. Ziva and Tim arrived together; after their greetings, Tim stopped by Tony's desk. "So," he said pleasantly "A good weekend with Doris?"

Tony didn't know whether he was being wound up or not, so he went for pleasant himself. "A wonderful weekend, thanks... out in the – fresh air." Oops, he nearly said 'mountain air', and he seriously didn't want to give any real information out. Gibbs did NOT need to know about Doris. As things were, he'd be making sure Tony worked all weekend, every weekend, for the next forty years. "On Sunday we went out with six of her friends. I'm in a stable relationship."

(He'd toyed with the idea of buying Doris, and bringing her closer to DC, but she needed other company for the many times he wasn't around, and she'd miss the hills. Sigh... how he'd have loved to tell Ziva, 'She's moving to Washington to be closer to me'... but it wouldn't be fair.)

"That's nice," McGee said, and wandered off to his desk looking thoughtful.

They worked quietly and diligently, and Tony wondered if McGee suspected, or maybe was loosening up a bit; and thought of Rota... until Gibbs' phone shrilled.

"Grab your gear. Warship captain's daughter kidnapped in Madison." He happened to be looking at Tony as he spoke. "You got a problem with that, DiNozzo?"

His SFA couldn't have looked more innocent, or uninterested, more quickly. "Me, Boss? Not at all." No... really not at all... much. Madison – not ten miles away from where he'd been this weekend; not much more than five, in fact. Just have to hope he didn't meet Sally on a shopping trip. He'd have said what were the odds, but he wasn't tempting fate, oh, no...

They made it in an hour and ten minutes; Tony had a route which could have clipped fifteen off that, but he didn't volunteer it. Gibbs would only have wanted to know how he knew. Even so when the Boss headed for route 95, he barely kept the look of surprise off his face and held his tongue.

The warship captain lived in a beautiful house beside Malvern Lake; he and his wife both came from money. LEOs patrolled outside; a senior Deputy Sheriff waited with the wife and her son. There was, as yet, nothing to indicate if terrorism was involved or just greed; only an unmade bed, an open window, and a hand-written note, 'we've got your sister', on Chick, the younger brother's bed, beside his cell phone. Mrs. Betteridge was beside herself with fear. Her husband's ship was in the Persian Gulf; so she was afraid it might be a target. Her daughter was seventeen, beautiful and a former Pageant Queen, so she was afraid for her in the worst possible way. She wasn't a cowardly woman, but, as she admitted shakily, she was the type who panicked, and not good in a crisis. Gibbs simply handed her over to Tony.

In the end it was McGee who solved the case, very simply, after three fraught hours when not a clue was to be found, and Daniel Betteridge made his wife's state worse, and Tony's job harder, by refusing to leave his ship unless someone told him there was a very good reason to do so.

When the call finally came to the brother's cell and Gibbs answered, an astonished voice on the other end said "Who the hell are you? Where's Chick?"

The boy gave Gibbs an anxious look as the Marine handed him the cell. "Talk to him..."

"Hello..."

"Are you missing your sister, Chick? What'll you do if she never comes back?"

"What? Why... what have you done with her?" The boy was thoroughly bewildered, and frightened, and Gibbs took the phone back.

"You're scaring him. Where's Eloise? What do you want?"

"I want him to miss his sister..."

Tony was beside Tim, scribbling furiously as he pointed to his screen. He came over and held the paper out to Gibbs. The Boss exploded. "This is a joke? A _joke_?"

The call was cut off suddenly, and the mother screamed "No!" as Tony hurried back to her.

"The cell that made that call is currently at your daughter's college, Mrs. Betteridge. It's registered to a Warwick R. Leyton. Is that name familiar?"

"It's Eloise's boyfriend, mom! He... he wouldn't hurt her... he-"

Gibbs stuck his face two inches from the boy's. "But he'd scare you? If she asked him to? What have you said to her?"

To his credit, the lad didn't collapse. "I told her I was fed up of her... cos I was. She's mom's favourite, she gets all the attention... I told her I wished she'd go to Gran's in Canada and never come back."

Before his mother, or Gibbs could say anything, Tim said, "Eloise's phone has just come on line, Boss -" and the house phone rang. Tony reached across and put it on speaker as Mrs Betteridge answered.

"Mom? Mom... it was a joke... who was that man? We were just having a go at Chick because he -"

"Your 'having a go', young lady, has put the entire Persian Gulf on alert, cost the local taxpayers a lot of money in LEO time, and frightened your family! Get your ass back here, and bring Warwick R. Leyton with you. The County Sheriff will want a word with you both!" He stormed out of the room, and out of the house. Tim closed his laptop and followed; Tony squeezed the stunned Mrs Betteridge's shoulder, and shook hands with the Deputy, before following, only pausing in the doorway with exaggerated courtesy to allow Ziva to precede him.

When he got outside, he saw another Deputy trying to persuade Gibbs to stop and listen to him. Tony explained in a very few short words just why they'd had a drive down from DC for precisely zilch.

"Oh," the man said. "Well, in a way that's good because now we can get our people back to deal with another possible emergency. Seven year old boy's apparently gone missing up near Duet."

Gibbs had been opening his mouth to yell "DiNozzo are you coming?"

He stopped abruptly as his SFA said "Duet?" in a very rough voice.

"Yeah, his father says he was playing with some older boys – they've probably just gone off a bit too far afield..."

An angry voice emerged from the radio he was holding. "The other boys have come back. Without my son. He's only seven -"

Tony grabbed the radio. "Simon! Simon Townley! It's _Adam_ that's missing?"

"DiNozzo... Tony, is that _you_? Thank God..."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I don't own anything – forgot to say that before... I wish I owned Doris.**

**Thank you to the kind reviewers who weren't signed in, for both previous chapters; thanks to all who alerted and favourited... bless you.**

**I've also had some lovely horse story PMs – thank you for those too!**

Weekends With Doris

Chapter 3

A temporary HQ had been set up in an obliging farmer's barn just off the state highway; it wasn't a mile from Amos and Sally's place. Tony had lifted his shoulders in a sad, resigned shrug as they got out of the car outside; Simon Townley was giving up the Corps for his son's sake, if he had to risk the revealing, and ruining of his secret, it was nothing by comparison. Tim noticed and frowned thoughtfully, but said nothing. A week or two ago he'd have been on it like a ferret, prying in a manner that would have outstripped the master he'd learned from; but he was feeling less and less light-hearted these days. Sometimes it seemed as if he'd witnessed the rebirth, but was now seeing the death of the team he loved.

They picked their way across a concrete yard pockmarked with puddles. Even the showery weather was conspiring against them; he hoped Adam had found somewhere to shelter.

Gibbs had heard Tony telling the anxious father that he was on his way, and his expected rumble of protest had been stilled by the information that Simon Townley was a Marine. Tony had looked him straight in the eye in a way that brooked no argument, and the Boss had, much to his own surprise, backed off, because of course they had to help. He suspected he'd been about to be told that DiNozzo was going anyway, no matter what anyone else did. He didn't know whether he was disappointed or relieved to have avoided that confrontation.

Why DiNozzo being right irritated him beyond comprehension he had no idea. He couldn't figure his Senior Field Agent out; he was sure the guy had to be kept under control, but couldn't remember why... He knew that the atmosphere in the team would always depend on him, and it wasn't right... so the guy had to be doing something wrong, but he couldn't figure that either.

He'd sat on that beach in Mexico, or up on Franks' roof, and the only memories he'd given a thought to retrieving were the ones about Shannon and Kelly, and now things that could be important hovered continually out of reach, like mosquitoes.

He expressed no curiosity about how the SFA knew the Marine; simply ordering the team back to the car in a way that made it clear to everyone concerned that he was taking over the search. The short drive passed with Ziva asking Tony how he knew the Townleys, and getting the truth with as little detail as possible,'_we met at a diner_, _they needed a map_' back.

It didn't help that when they hurried into the barn, the first person Tony saw was Amos Frame, standing with Simon; both men totally ignored Gibbs and went straight to his SFA. "Tony... I couldn't believe it when I heard your voice on the radio... I couldn't make them believe Adam was really missing..."

Tony nodded. "This is my team... the Boss, Special Agent Gibbs..." he introduced everyone before Gibbs could morph into the bear. (When he introduced Amos to Gibbs as 'a friend', but gave no more information, the old wrangler's hackles rose. He was pretty certain he was looking at the cause of the coping mechanism.) "What happened?"

"We were staying at the camp-site at Weaver Hollow... there were some children there that Adam got on with, mostly a bit older, but you know, he has an old head on him... We'd stayed a couple of days longer than I originally planned because he was _happy_..."

A couple of extra days... either the Corps were being_ really_ flexible, or...

"You got a couple of extra days?"

Simon smiled sadly. "I'm on terminal leave, Tony," he said in that same soft voice he'd heard before.

"Ah."

"They all went off for a hike up the hills; apparently everything was fine until a lad asked about his mom. He said she'd died, and the other kid said 'oh, _sure_'. He said he didn't really not believe him, he just didn't know what to say, and he hadn't meant to upset him, and I'm sure that's true, but Adam _was_ upset and ran away. They tried to find him and couldn't, so they came back down to raise the alarm."

"How long ago was that?" Gibbs asked, trying to moderate his usual bark.

"Three hours now," Simon said. "He's not very big; he can't go far on foot if he gets off a trail."

The Boss turned to the Deputy who'd followed them from Madison. "Got a map?" The nettled lawman silently indicated the detailed one that was pinned to the wall. "Set up patrols along all the roads, in case he finds his way down to one. Ziva, take CWO Townley back to the camp they set out from, in case he finds his way back there."

Ziva smiled. Tony winced. A beautiful girl with a penchant for bossiness and a sympathetic attitude that needed some working on was really not who he'd have sent with a man who'd lost his wife. Especially when Gibbs was aware that Tony already knew him. He kept silent – he already knew what he was going to do. Simon hesitated and looked at Tony for confirmation, a fact that didn't escape Gibbs' notice. The SFA smiled and nodded reassuringly. The Boss glared.

Gibbs looked at Amos, waving his arm to include all the local people who'd heard and come to help. "You know all these folk?" At Amos's stiff affirmative he continued, "Can you form them into groups and give them areas to search? Make sure at least one of each group's got a cell phone?"

"I'll do that," Amos said, very courteously, all things considered.

"Is the kid here who raised the alarm?" The Deputy Sheriff pointed to a lad sitting with his mother, on a saw horse in the corner. "McGee, you and I'll take him to show us the place where he disappeared. Hope your trackin's up to scratch."

"Sure, Boss."

Tony kept utter control of his face. Gibbs remembered Tim's scouting skills... he tried not to feel hurt, or downright jealous, and held his breath. Either he was being left until last or he'd been forgotten.

"DiNozzo, stay here and co-ordinate. Make sure you've got all the relevant cell numbers."

_Stay here? _"Er, Boss, I know this area -" _I mean, isn't it obvious? I know Amos!_

Gibbs rolled his eyes in disbelief. "Well then, you'll know where to send people won't you." He stomped out. Tim gave Tony a look that said 'haven't a clue what to say', but held a measure of sympathy, and followed him, collecting both the boy and his mother on the way. He spoke quietly to her, and she nodded vehemently. No way was she going to let her son go off without her, with that sorehead...

After a long pause, Amos said finally, "Your Boss always that much of a jackass?"

"He's... he got hurt..." Tony said lamely. "He was in a coma... He's just... taking some time to get back... that's all." The other man snorted derisively, and Tony thought of Doris. "Amos, can I borrow -"

"Sure you can. I'll do the co-ordinating here. Watch her, she's not been out since you were here yesterday... hell, son, can't believe you're back so soon... I'll call Sal and get her to fix things ready." He handed Tony the keys to his truck. "Go on."

Less than fifteen minutes later, having dumped his designer suit in his den and changed into the scruffy, comfortable cords and jacket he favoured for riding, the intrepid Cowboy Tony and his faithful equine partner hit the trail, with a saddle bag full of first aid stuff, a waterproof and _food_. They knew exactly where they were going; it seemed pretty logical that if the boys had started out from Weaver Hollow to climb hills, the trails would have led to one place in the end. Anyhoos, with the series of hits and misses the universe had been giving him lately, Tony's gut was saying just one thing.

It took them about twenty minutes to reach Belinda's Mill, as they checked out a few side trails, and Tony fully expected to see a small, tow headed boy sitting on the end of the dry coffer dam, waiting to be found. His heart sank; the place was deserted. Damn. He'd disobeyed a direct order, and he was wrong. It was a stupid order,mind, but he was still wrong.

Doris didn't think so. She raised her head and let out a sound he'd never heard from her before. The whinny was a blast of noise, an equine lion's roar that resounded through the forest. Tony was impressed. As the echoes died away, he heard a voice.

"Help!"

"Adam?"

Doris's ears pointed the way; Tony slid to the ground and she followed him as he moved towards the diggings. A mill-race ran in from the right; at the moment it was completely dry as the battered sluice gate from the creek had been reinforced by more of the ubiquitous sandbags. The flume ended in an overhanging iron penstock, below which the waterwheel itself lay canted to one side, half excavated. Sitting awkwardly on one of the flukes, about ten feet down, Adam Townley hugged himself and tried to keep warm.

He looked up and said seriously, "You're Tony. You told Daddy and me about this place. But you didn't have a horse then."

"Sure I did," Tony said, remembering to breathe with relief. "I had a Mustang."

The little boy got the joke and laughed. "I tried to find my way back, but I couldn't. But I knew how to find this place. I thought I'd look round while I waited... they wouldn't let us children near the pit when we were here before. I fell in."

"Are you hurt, Adam?"

"No. I landed on my a- er, my butt. There, in the soft earth... But I can't get out. They had ladders, but they've taken them. Is Daddy there?"

"He's searching round the camp-site; they thought you might find your way back. Doris and me just wondered if you'd come here. Right, let's get you out of there."

He turned back to his horse before breaking out in a grin it would have taken too long to explain to Adam. The poser's lariat was going to come in useful. He put the loop round the saddle horn, and the marvellous Doris astonished him again. As soon as he began to pay out the rope, she went into a stiff-legged, braced, hold-that-steer-and-don't-let-the-rope-go-slack stance that she'd clearly learned in her rodeo youth. Whoever had originally trained her had done well. How could they let a treasure like her go? What had she seen and done in her twelve years? He'd never know. Tony patted her neck and rubbed her nose. "You're a wonderful girl, you know that?"

She just looked at him –_ trying to work here, OK?_

"OK. The further adventures of BatNozzo and Dobbin..." He put his jacket, cell, badge and gun on the ground, passed the rope under his backside, and used it to help him shin down the vertical wall to Adam.

"Cool," the boy said.

Tony took a look round. Even though a chunk had sheared off the end of the chute, there was still enough to provide some shelter, and Adam was cold, but he wasn't wet. Good. The pit was lined with shaped stone up to about a foot from the top, where the ground level had been raised by the seasons and there was just rough earth. There were dents in the stone that could make footholds. Goood. And Doris knew what she was doing. Very gooood...

"You reckon you can go up on the rope like I came down, Adam? If we tie it round you, and I lift you up... and Doris does the pulling?"

Adam's eyes lit up. "Like Champion the Wonder Horse! Yeah!"

Tony chuckled. "Oh, believe me...Champion has_ nothing _on Doris. Tell you what... I've got something here for you – for luck." He pulled the Junior Engineer badge from his back pocket, and Adam's eyes lit up.

"Oh wow, you found it! Thanks, Tony!"

It worked like clockwork... The more Tony lifted, the more Doris backed up and kept that rope taut. The only worrisome bit might have been when Adam was at the extent of Tony's arms and there was still a short way to go, but an encouraging shout of '_hup, gal_' reassured her she was doing the right thing, and she kept pulling until Adam was over the friable edge of the pit and standing on solid ground. Without even untying the rope, he ran over to the big brown mare and hugged as much of her as his arms would go round.

When he'd gone over the top, of course, he'd disappeared from Tony's view...

"Hey, Adam, where've you got to?"

"I'm just saying thank you to Doris!"

"Look in the inside pocket of my jacket... you'll find something to say thank you with."

"OK..."

There was silence for a while, until the boy's voice drifted down again. "She loves the sugar!"

"Sure she does. Li'l buddy, _I'd_ love to get out of here!"

"Oh heck... _sorry_, Tony!" Adam appeared at the edge of the pit, frantically untying the rope.

"No problem, Adam... just toss me that rope... thanks... OK, coming up!"

It was easy enough, hauling on the rope and finding toeholds as Doris took up the slack – until he was almost at the top. Disturbed by the rubbing of the rope when Adam was going up, and his scramble over the edge, a big chunk of earth chose that moment to dislodge itself. The rope loosened off, and although Doris reacted straight away, it was enough to send Tony sideways into the broken off penstock, while dropping him about eighteen inches.

His suppressed yell of pain was enough to make Doris huff anxiously; but somehow he didn't let go of the rope. Adam dropped to his knees at the edge of the pit. "Tony! Are you all right? Did that hurt you?"

"Adam... get away from the edge, buddy! It's not safe!"

"Tony..."

"Get Doris to pull. She's going to have to do it all for me. Get her to go back..."

Adam couldn't think how to do that, he didn't know what he should say to her, so he began to haul on the rope, and as soon as he did that, she joined in, until Tony came over the top of the pit and crawled one armed away from it. His young friend ran back to him looking frightened for the first time since he'd been found. "Tony, I can see blood on your side..."

"Oh, not a lot, li'l chief, don't worry." He flopped sideways and sat down. "Hey, listen, can you reach the saddlebag? And the blankets from behind it?"

"I can if I put one foot in the stirrup..."

"Go on then; Doris won't let you fall."

While Adam was doing that Toy took hasty stock of himself. A prod suggested nothing broken; it hadn't been that hard a blow, he told himself. But he had the most colourful abrasions from his waist to his armpit, and up the inside of his arm on the left side, and a gash high up where the sheared off penstock had poked him. And yeah, it hurt... He grabbed his jacket and put it on quickly, determined that Adam wouldn't see the mess, and sat breathing heavily until the boy came back. Right. Good. He could talk without a tremor...

"Good lad. Now, here's what we need." He shook out one of the serapes, one handed. "You need to put this on, OK? It's too cold for you to be just in your t-shirt." Adam put his head through the hole, and almost disappeared. "Hey, you got your own personal wigwam!"

Adam giggled, but wasn't distracted. "We have to fix you, Tony."

"OK, Mr Teepee... pass me the first aid kit them."

"Does it hurt much?"

Tony put on the sort of smile that regularly had Ducky reaching for the twelve year old Talisker. "Less now, buddy." That was true, or he was getting used to it. "I don't want you to worry about it, we're only fifteen minutes from help, and I can get fixed soon enough. I'll just pile some of these dressings on, and I'll be fine." He was pushing bandages and pads under his shirt as fast as Adam could unwrap them, and wiping the blood off his hand furtively on the inside of his jacket every time he pulled it out. Then he fastened the garment up tight; there, done the best he could.

"I bet you're hungry... and thirsty." Adam nodded, convinced in his seven-year-old wisdom that he was being flannelled somehow, but not able to put it into words. "So... Sally made a picnic yesterday – she's the lady who owns Doris..." The big horse huffed at the mention of her name, and came closer, but her head jerked up in alarm at the smell of blood. Tony reached up his left hand to rub her nose, because that didn't have any blood on it. Sure as hell hurt, but it calmed the mare down. "Now this picnic was to die for... so let's get some of these scrumptious left-overs down us, and I think there's some bottled water in here somewhere."

As soon as Adam was on his way to being warm and full, Tony scooshed across on his backside to get the other things he'd left with his jacket. He grabbed his cell and hit a speed dial number.

"Amos? Yeah... I've found Adam. He's just fine. Yes, he found shelter. No, he's not hurt at all. He's just polishing off the remains of Sally's picnic. We're going to make our way down the creek trail back to HQ, should be there in twenty."

He disconnected. "My friend Amos is going to call your dad, so he'll come back from the camp, and be at the search HQ when we get there. He'll be really happy... he was so worried about you."

Adam smiled. "I wanted to be cross with him all the time, but it wasn't his fault, you know."

Something grabbed Tony's heart and squeezed hard. "Yeah, I do know, li'l buddy. One day maybe I'll tell you... but hey -" He looked up at the sky. "Let's get going, we're in for another shower."

It took ages to organise, even with Adam's help; the one-handed draping of the other serape over Doris's hind quarters, the wrapping of the waterproof around Adam over the blanket, and then the climb into the saddle. Tony made a huge joke of it all; it was only once his young friend was settled in front of him that he let the mask drop. Lord, it hurt...

"You're shivering, Tony." Shaking, actually. "Just cold... don'tcha worry."

The shower was heavy, but at least it was short. He could feel the cold water running down the back of his neck and under his shirt. Ecch. When it stopped, he pulled the serape up from behind him; it had kept Doris dry, and now the under side could give him some heat. Aah, nothing like warm horse... didn't stop the shaking though. And the warmth on his left hip and thigh didn't come from the blanket... he was losing the precious red stuff, and it was his and he wanted to keep it. It was probably ruining the Mexican saddle too.

Never mind... you could bet they wouldn't have taken his word for it that Adam was OK, so there'd be paramedics... he'd let them take a look for once... He knew he must be going into shock to even contemplate such a thing. There'd be warmth, dry clothes, painkillers... he was barely aware that he'd dropped the reins on Doris's neck and let her take charge.

Adam had noticed how quiet he'd gone, and he said suddenly, "I found out who Belinda was."

Tony roused himself. "No kidding? Tell me!"

"Well, her dad ran the logging company, and he didn't have any sons. When he was talking about giving up, everyone said a woman couldn't run the company. Her dad said sure she could, but all that happened was all the guys wanted to marry her to get the company for themselves. Belinda stuck a drawing to the barn door, and said that she'd marry whoever could build what she'd drawn. And she was as good as her word. She was smart enough to design the mill... only one man cared enough and was smart enough to build it, it was a sawmill, did you know? And she married him and they ran the mill together for the rest of their lives. I'm going to tell my teacher when I go back to school..."

"That is _such_ a good story. Well told! What d'ya think, Doris?" Tony made the effort to chat for a while, because he didn't want to alarm his bright young friend, but darkness was trying to encroach on his field of vision, and his side throbbed with unrelenting fire. A distant voice cut into his thoughts, and he realised they'd reached the bottom of the trail. Gibbs.

"Thought ya said he said they'd be twenty minutes."

"Well, night's drawing in, and it's been raining. He and the horse are both too sensible to rush when it's dark or slippery."

Dammit, I -"

Simon's voice cut him off. "Here they are. Adam!"

It seemed as if a tide of people raced towards them. Tony sighed with relief. Warmth... painkillers... who knows, even maybe a 'well done'. OK, not from Gibbs, but... A babble of voices surged up at him; the one that stood out was the Boss, close to his right knee. "Thought I told you to stay here, DiNozzo."

He'd have lost it if he'd had the energy. Right now he didn't give a flying fruitcake. "I _know_ what you told me, Gibbs."

Hands reached up and lifted Adam from his lap, the babble was full of 'poor kid... must be hungry... where's he hurt..."

The crowd, with Adam, flowed away again, and left him frozen with disbelief and humiliation, sitting unheeded on his patient Doris.

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thanks again to the people who reviewed but weren't logged in.**

**Thank you, Catsmeou for the continuing, lovely story of Nita!**

Weekends With Doris

Chapter 4

Gibbs stood impatiently by the car.

"McGee! By the time you're done I could run back to the barn!"

_Then why the hell don't you? _The thought sprang up before Tim could suppress it; he was just glad it didn't get past his lips. He'd had enough of Gibbs today to last a year."Coming, Boss." He turned briefly back to the boy and his mother. "No, Adam's dad doesn't blame you. He's grateful that you and your friends welcomed him so well."

"Aw, he was fine for a little kid, you know? Have you heard anything yet?"

"No, but we will. We'll find him, don't worry. It's -"

Gibbs' phone buzzed and prevented another explosion. "Ya have? Is he OK? Where did they find him? Don't remember that, is it on the map? Who –_ What?_"

"Boss, they found him? He's OK?"

"Yeah, McGee, he's fine. Now, get your ass in gear."

"That's good," the youngster said with feeling.

"Er... we'll walk back to the camp," his mother said hastily, and Tim nodded.

"_McGee!"_

The young agent got into the car, and fished around for something placating to say.

"Sorry my tracking didn't turn up anything, Boss, too many other people had been there."

"Tracking? What d'ya mean, tracking?"

"You mentioned my tracking skills, Boss... that I do with my scout group."

"McGee, that was a _joke._ A joke, right? I haven't the damndest idea about you and boy scouts."

A joke... Tim fell silent; not because he was afraid to speak, he realised, the flare of anger at Gibbs hadn't died away; he simply couldn't work out what he should say, because he couldn't work out why everything was_ wrong_. He gave some thought to why he wasn't afraid these days? Well, not exactly 'not afraid', but brave enough and confident enough to deal. If Tony could do it, he pondered, so could he. He'd _watched_ Tony. And by watching... he'd learned enough of how the Boss reacted, to know the best way to say what he needed to say. So... it wasn't just sticking his nose into things like a bloodhound that he'd learned from DiNozzo...

Then he remembered the paperwork incident from a few nights ago, and how he and Ziva had gleefully reinforced Tony's discomfiture. He frowned to himself. If DiNozzo had actually done something stupid... but he hadn't... and he _had_ looked really tired...

Tim was puzzled. When Gibbs had left, Tony had driven them mad until the continually reinforced message 'You're not Gibbs' had finally gotten through. After that, the flat, efficient leadership style hadn't really suited them either, because they were both missing Gibbs, they wanted Tony to make them laugh, and that hadn't happened. But they'd followed him; the work had got done, and the percentage of cases closed hadn't fallen. But for that problem of missing Gibbs, life had been fine... he hadn't been teased, or called Probie... He was astonished to realise that his own feelings of inadequacy as a new, emergency SFA had been dealt with – _by Tony _– and he'd even had a hand in training up a_ new_ probie.

Now Gibbs was back, and the only thing wrong _was_ Tony. Clearly, he couldn't do anything right, and was driving Gibbs as crazy as he'd driven them...

_So why are you getting mad at Gibbs then?_

Tim closed his eyes and winced. He'd just thought how they'd followed Tony... and now they were back to following Gibbs. Whatever he did... including putting DiNozzo down when he hadn't actually _done_ anything...

Let's face it, his thoughts admonished, since Gibbs came back, what has Tony actually done except his job? When has he laughed? Or teased? He's too busy waiting for the next slap-down. He gets calls from the Director... he winces and Gibbs glares... he goes missing, comes back next day looking exhausted...

_The best way to say what he needed to say... _it all went straight out of the car window.

"Boss," he blurted, "what's Tony done to make you so mad?" He cringed internally, but didn't let it show. Hell, if he'd waited and thought it through he'd probably have kept quiet. Gibbs gave him a sideways glance that said 'none of your damn business', but a few moments later he answered anyway.

"What is it with him? He can't follow the simplest instruction. I told him to stay there and co-ordinate – does he not understand English?"

_Oh come on_... Tim would never have called himself Tony's biggest fan, but this was unjust. He'd meant generally, too, and Gibbs was coming down to something specific. Either he misunderstood, the young agent speculated, or he couldn't – or wouldn't – answer the general question because the specific... he hung onto the thread in the tangle of thoughts... the specific complaint was all he had. Phew. Got there.

"He didn't stay there, then?" Gibbs' answering silence was derisive, which stung McGee a bit... he hadn't _explained; _just like a few minutes ago, when the helpful boy and his mother wanted to know that Adam was safe. It was information that needed to be shared, and the Boss's mulish attitude was downright unnecessary. Tim no longer cared about the best way...

"Well, you'd given that friend of his, Amos, the actual job of co-ordinating... so what was there for him to do? He_ told_ you he knew the area, Boss."

"How the hell would he know the area, McGee? When does he ever change out of his designer suits and leave the safety of DC? But he goes off, borrows a _horse_, dammit, and goes off alone..."

Tim couldn't have listed all the thoughts that tumbled through his brain... _Doris_... "Boss, did _he_ find Adam?"

"How does that make it better, that he was lucky? Someone would've found the kid, and then we'd have had to go looking for that idiot!"

"Boss, that's not true – he wouldn't lie, and he didn't borrow -"

But Gibbs had yanked on the parking brake and was already out of the car. By the time a seriously worried and completely confused Tim had followed him, he was already haranguing Amos as he tried to shake hands and thank departing volunteers.

NCISNCISNCIS

"What do I do? Doris, what the hell do I do now?" She blew down her nostrils sympathetically, but she didn't have an answer.

A web of sick, icy cold chilled his flaming, embarrassed cheeks and spread down his neck and back, out along his shoulders and down all the way to his hands, making them shake; it sank into his gut, ran through his chest and made his heart lurch. He couldn't think for the dreadful emotions that were crowding him. He rationalised... of course their attention would be on the child... he was _glad _they were looking after Adam, there was no reason for them to think he couldn't take care of himself... Didn't work. Nobody was bothered about him. He wasn't worth their time. Nobody even looked at him. He would never, as long as he lived, forget the alone-ness of this moment. The sight of a lot of backs moving away from him would haunt his dreams. Doris decided that home was the best place for them both to be, and took a few tentative steps; it was a kindly thought, but the wrong one.

"You're right, gal, we can't stay here... but you're going to have to change direction, and I can't... oh, no no no..." He swayed, fell off and rolled down the short slope at the side of the barn, ending up with a groan in long, sopping wet grass. At least the cold went some way to quenching the fire in his side. Hey, physical pain's nothing... nothing but oblivion could temper the pain and confusion in his heart right now. He really, truly didn't know what to do... The big brown mare huffed anxiously, and stood at the top of the bank. She wouldn't go home without him. Still patient, she stood guard.

NCISNCISNCIS

"I'm _not_ taking my clothes off," Adam said politely but primly. "I don't need to. I'm not wet."

"But of course you are, sonny, it's been raining," the EMT said chidingly.

"But I didn't get wet."

"He's probably in shock, Ravi," his partner said. "He'll be hungry. Better not give him too much, though, in case it makes him sick."

"I'm not hungry."

"Son, you've been missing for more than four hours. Of course you're hungry. And you might be hurt. There's blood here."

Adam took a deep breath. _"Daddy!"_ he yelled furiously.

After checking to his own satisfaction that his son was fine, and asking him to let the medics look him over, Simon had moved a few yards away to try and get a better phone signal. He was anxious to contradict anything dire that the grandparents might have heard on the news. The NCIS team walked by.

"What is Tony doing?" Ziva was saying angrily. "Leaving his horse to stand like that. Is it not a rider's first duty to care for their animal?"

The young agent, McGee, said reproachfully, "Ziva... that's _Doris._ Don't you understand? That's Tony's Doris, and he _does_ care for her. You know he does. He'd never just -" They were interrupted by Adam's shout.

"Right here, son. How is he?" He really should have asked Adam.

"Well, he's -"

"Daddy," Adam said loudly and very firmly, and the buzz of conversation died away. "I'm not hungry, because Tony brought food. I'm not thirsty because he brought water. I'm not cold, because he wrapped me up in a se... a se-wrappy. I'm not wet, because he put a waterproof thing over the se-wrappy. I'm not hurt._ It's not my blood, it's Tony's!" _He really hoped that was loud enough for all these stupid grown-ups to understand.

They all looked towards Doris; she was nowhere to be seen. Tim looked around for Gibbs; he was talking to the Sheriff's Deputy, who wanted to know when he could send his men home. "Get the Boss," he told Ziva. He looked at the few stragglers – Tony wouldn't want an audience. Simon took a step towards him. "You stay with Adam, Mr Townley." His voice was hard. "I've got this," he told them all flatly, and hurried away.

NCISNCISNCIS

Tony crawled to the top of the slope; it wasn't that far, he'd told himself as he'd looked up, and of course he could do it one handed. No problem. He didn't realise it, but he'd be thankful later when he did, that he was moving at an angle that took him behind the barn, where he couldn't be seen from the yard. Took him longer, of course. Doris kept pace with him.

"OK, girl... now I know you don't like the smell of blood... but you're gonna have to trust me, OK? Cuz I'm pretty sure I won't be able to stand up without your help." She put her head down to sniff at him warily; he wrapped his un-bloody right arm round her neck, and she jerked her head up. It was quicker than he'd have liked, but he couldn't blame her for being nervous. At least he was vertical, and quick was good, because as he'd crawled up that bank, he'd decided what to do. He hadn't a clue what to _think, _he was pushing that cold, sick feeling away until he could deal, and the prospect of trying to frightened him down to his soul, but right now he had to move fast.

First things first... in order to flee the place, he had to get back in the saddle. Had to. How? Tim McGee came round the corner of the barn and stopped for a moment, eyes wide with shock at what he saw.

"Tony, I'm _sorry!_ I should have realised..."

"It's OK, Pro - McGee." Tony had no time for argument. He really would have preferred to still be alone. _Don't be churlish, Anthony, he's here. Which is more than can be said for anyone else..._"I've always followed him, I couldn't expect you to do anything else."

"Followed him, literally – away from you, when you're hurt – "

"Tim, there's no _time._ Did you hear what he said?"

"Er... yeah. Yeah, I did."

"Well then, you know I don't want to be within a hundred miles of him right now."

"Damn. I sent Ziva to get him..." He looked round urgently. "Here..." There was a milking parlour near the barn; Tim took Doris's reins in one hand, and used his other to pull Tony's arm over his shoulder. They hurried into the dark building as best they could.

"What will you do?"

"Don't know, Tim. You haven't seen me. But you could get Amos..."

Tim bit his lip. "I haven't seen you. Amos." He'd probably be in big trouble for this when Gibbs found out, but stuff it, he didn't doubt it was what Tony needed.

"Thanks, Tim," the SFA said softly, and the young agent began to close the door, just as Gibbs and Ziva came round the far end of the barn.

"No sign of him, Boss," he said, as if he'd just checked the byre, and had no trouble putting the worry into his voice, even if it was a different worry than Gibbs might have thought.

The Boss actually had the grace to look anxious. "The car," was all he said.

As they hurried to it, Tim stopped beside Amos briefly. "We're going looking for him," he said loudly. Then sotto voce, "He's hurt, he's in the cow byre, with Doris, and he doesn't want Gibbs to know. Tell him to keep in touch. _Please._" There was no time for more.

As they drove away, Gibbs said, "So, ya saying he _does _know this area?"

Tim let out a long breath. He might have known the Boss had heard. "He said he does – I believed him - and I put two and two together. He's been talking about this 'girl' for ages -" he made quote signs - "He comes out here to see Doris... his _horse._ It's what he does to chill, Boss – he goes trail riding. And if he knows this area, and he doesn't want to be found, we won't find him."

"Why would he not want to be found?" Ziva asked the question that Gibbs wouldn't. Tim didn't answer.

Back down the road, Amos took charge. "I reckon he's taken Doris home," he said, but Simon Townley looked at him sceptically.

"Without saying goodbye? Something's going on."

"Reckon there is," Amos agreed. "I'll call you when I know what it is. Hey, I will."

"I guess that'll have to do for now then. But I owe him."

"You're not the only one."

"Ah. So you do that."

His FWD pulled out a few minutes later, leaving only two puzzled paramedics hovering.

"We didn't like to leave if someone really is hurt," Ravi said.

Amos looked him straight in the eyes. "Fellas, I need you to keep your mouths shut." They looked puzzled. "Not asking you to tell any lies... just don't gossip, OK?" As he led them to the byre, he called Sally.

Inside the darkening cow byre, Tony was sitting hunched on the ground, head down, leaning against the wall, and Doris huffed with relief at the sight of Amos. Her buddy didn't even raise his head. Ravi said, before he'd even commenced his examination, "He needs to be in hospital."

"No," the injured man said flatly.

"Tony," Amos protested.

His friend raised his head and looked at him bleakly. "Gibbs'd find out where I was," he said. "One of two things'd happen. Either, he'd come and yell at me for disobeying a stupid order, or I'd lie there all night wondering why he_ didn't_ come and yell at me for disobeying a stupid order. Ziva would come and tell me all the things I did wrong. Or, I'd lie there all night waiting for her to, and she wouldn't come. Abby'd come and demand that I put it all behind me and be 'her Tony' again, because anything else doesn't fit in the Abbyverse... oh, sorry, you've never met Abby... and I don't feel like 'her Tony' right now. I think McGee'd come, even if no-one else did... he's the one who hid us in here... shouldn't have said that, don't tell Gibbs... ah, quit moaning, DiNozzo."

"Good advice, Tony," Amos said gently. "Just shut up and let the guys take a look at you." He looked round for a light-switch, but as he heard the unmistakeable sound of his own truck's V8 diesel, he had a better idea. With the help of a horrified Sally the two EMTs got a staggering, compliant Tony onto blankets in the back, whilst Amos explained the situation, as he flipped Doris's stirrup leathers over the saddle. Boy, was it going to take some cleaning. Maybe just buy her a nice new one because it'd never lose that smell of blood... He hitched her reins to the saddle horn, draped the two serapes over her,and said "Home, gal. I'll come and tuck you in in a minute." Doris looked at him mournfully, and he patted her reassuringly. "Go on..." She set off up the trail at a trot.

After a few minutes of stoical silence from Tony, Ravi gave his verdict. "No broken bones. Severe bruising. We'll put in a saline drip to replace the blood... but you know, saline doesn't carry oxygen, so you can't put your body under stress and deplete your reserves." Tony was silently thankful that the EMT couldn't see his medical records just then. "The abrasions will do fine once they've scabbed over, as long as you keep them clean, but you need antibiotics. The gash isn't deep, but to heal quickly it needs stitches. And are you up to date with your tetanus shots? Good. You'll also need painkillers, and plenty of rest."

He looked at Amos. "If you can take care of those things he'll be fine in the end, and no, we won't tell where he is or who he's with even if we're asked. We don't know."

The patient said "Thanks," in a low, tired voice.

He hung the IV from the OMG handle. "If you can't," he said severely, "I can't guarantee there won't be consequences of not going to hospital."

Amos shook his hand, and his partner's. "We'll take care of it," he said. "Our family doctor will come."

Tony muttered something in protest. "Shut it, Tony, or it'll be the vet I call...Thanks, guys."

The medics left, and shortly after them, the truck, with Sally sitting in the back with Tony's head in her lap. He didn't say a word, the whole journey.

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thanks as always (a phrase I do to death, I know...)to the people who reviewed but weren't logged in. Bless you!**

**Thanks to to lknightly for the timely reminder about the cell phone.**

Weekends With Doris

Chapter 5

From his place in the back seat Tim could have looked into the rear view mirror to see the expression on Gibbs' face, but he didn't. There was no way he wanted to meet the Boss's eyes, or try to read what was going on in his mind. He figured there'd be mutual daggers of accusation flying between them if he did.

Tony didn't want to talk to them – probably Gibbs in particular, but they'd all left him sitting on that horse... It hadn't been deliberate, Tony had said as much to him; still must have hurt. Tim remembered being in hospital all those years ago after wrecking his Coming-Of-Age car; his Mom had fussed, bless her, his father had never upbraided him over the wreck, but he'd never asked how he was, or given the slightest sign of concern either. Although he knew it was his father's way, nothing more, it hadn't felt good.

OK, they'd none of them known Tony was hurt; they still didn't know how badly, or how it had happened, but, Tim wondered in a rather despairing way, did it simply reinforce Gibbs' view that the SFA was an idiot who couldn't be let loose? He thought on; before the explosion, and the coma, the Boss had been a bear, sure... but he'd have remembered Tim's scouting, and he'd never have come out with a disparaging, unkind put-down like the one about the tracking. Tim shook his head... maybe he could reassure Tony that he wasn't being singled out in the forgetfulness game. But, he added conscientiously , because he couldn't lie, even to himself, Tony sure took most of it. Pre-coma Gibbs may have called his SFA an idiot to his face, but not to anyone else behind his back. How had things got this bad?

Ziva... now that was weird... Gibbs never spoke to her like that. In fact, Tim thought, something was going on. Everyone had visited the Boss in hospital, but it was only after Ziva's visit that his memory had returned. Tony had noticed it too, as had Ducky. Now they seemed to share some sort of secret; people would make random remarks that seemed to have no importance, but the Boss and Ziva would glance at each other, and try to look as if they weren't. And there she was, sitting beside him, her beautiful profile frequently turned towards the silent bear; if there was rank to be pulled, in the absence of Tony it should be him... Gibbs had raised no objection when she'd got in the front, and Tim had shrugged internally – and sat in the back where he'd really rather be anyway.

He thought of the accusing daggers again; the coma and the re-awakened grief were mitigating circumstances of the most terrible kind, and nobody could ignore them, but the way things were right now was Gibbs' fault, and not Tony's. One male who'd probably never describe himself as alpha, if you had to put such labels on people, who was nevertheless quite capable of it but had been used to cheerfully deferring _from choice_, Tony was now finding no cheer in it or anything else. One who had not the slightest intention of bowing to another point of view; well, Gibbs had always been like that, but these days it was any time, any place, ever, and don't expect him to even think of being nice about it. Just how was all this going to end? Both the Boss and Tony were going through the mill, but, Tim feared, only one of them could put it right, and only the other one would want to. If it wasn't too late.

(He thought of his own comment to Tony about not deserving his own team, and his heart sank further. He'd lashed out... probably more than the original crime had merited... Tony hadn't taken long-term offence, and didn't call him Probie now except when he forgot. But he rather suspected that, after those four months, Tony could handle a team anywhere in the world, and if this didn't stop, anywhere in the world – except DC – was where he'd go.)

He thought about the daggers coming back the other way... he hadn't answered Ziva's question because if it wasn't obvious to both her and Gibbs why Tony didn't want to be found, it was up to them to figure it. But Gibbs most certainly wondered what Tim knew; the young agent simply marvelled at how stubborn the Boss was that he wouldn't ask.

As his mind turned over the events of the day again, Tim was struck by a sudden alarming thought. Gibbs hadn't heard what young Adam had said about the blood not being his... he'd been talking to the Deputy. Ziva had been there, so she knew... did Gibbs actually _know_ that Tony was hurt? Had Ziva told him? Tim was the only one who'd seen the SFA hanging on to his horse's neck to stay on his feet, the only one who'd seen the blood on his side when his jacket had flapped open. Should he mention it? His thoughts had come full circle; would he be inviting Gibbs to believe Tony wasn't safe to be let out without hurting himself?

He sighed. If Gibbs already believed he was holding something back, there wasn't anything he could say to make things better. As they swung onto the entry ramp for the state highway, he realised what he'd suspected might happen _had _done. He'd been taken at his word – _'If he doesn't want to be found, we won't find him' – _and they were headingback towards DC. Should he have said it? His intention had been to help Tony to get the space he needed... but had he simply given the Boss just the excuse he needed for washing his hands of him? Sunk in worry and despair,Tim kept silent.

NCISNCISNCIS

By the time the Frames' family doctor had arrived, Tony had borrowed Amos's phone – his own had been a casualty of the long wet grass, and tragically drowned at the bottom of that slope – and explained to Jenny Shepard that he'd be missing for just a few days while he got over a minor riding accident. Then, in spite of Sally's protests, he'd talked the older man into helping him out of his ruined clothes, into sweats and upstairs to his den.

"Really, Amos, why've you brought him up here? You're not an animal, Tony. Licking your wounds in your cave isn't healthy."

"I know, Sal... just for tonight, honestly," he pleaded. "I'll come down to the house tomorrow. I just need to think."

She could see that he did, but she still harrumphed in frustration. "Well, you'll have to put up with one of us trotting up here every so often to check."

"You don't have to go to all that trouble, Sal..."

"Idiot... when will you learn it's not – oh, Steven, I'm so glad you're here. Come and tell this boy to have some sense."

That was comical, the doctor was no older, and possibly a little younger than the agent, and once he'd checked Tony over, poor Sally got no support from him. The injured man lay uncomplainingly on the cot, on his side with his arm over his head, and Dr Enright stitched away as he spoke quietly. "The saline's run; I'll take the port out once I've used it to give you a shot of antibiotic, and a decent painkiller to help you sleep. You need fluids and plenty of rest; on your own head be it if you don't, and I'll leave you a sling – wear it for a week so's not to strain the stitches."

"Thanks, Doc. I appreciate it." A bandage was applied gently to his abraded arm, and the patient sat up so that the medic could wrap one round his upper body to protect the stitches. He keeled over again as soon as it was done. Sally brought a carafe of water, and an extra blanket, and after resolutely stopping herself from fussing any more, she left with Dr Enright.

Amos stayed, sitting carefully down on the edge of the bed. "Let me take a guess on what's bothering you here," he began cautiously.

"Is Doris OK?"

"Rubbed down, belly full, watered and probably dozing by now. Don't change the subject. Reckon I'm getting an idea what drives you down here to the hills... kinda like to hear it from you."

"Amos... honestly, I don't want to – I've not really thought about it yet. Not clearly."

Amos leaned forward. "Thought. About. What?"

Tony frowned... and trod carefully. He didn't want to say anything – he didn't blame Amos... he didn't _blame_ anyone, truthfully... they were_ right_ to look after Adam... he chose his pronoun with that in mind, because he knew Amos had been there. "They all left me there," he admitted finally, with a wry shrug of one shoulder. That was a bad idea, because he was lying on his good side, so the one he moved hurt. "I perched up there on Doris while they all hurried away from me..."

In halting, painful embarrassment, he managed to tell Amos the thoughts that had been going through his head as he brought Adam down the hill, and how he'd felt when he was left alone. "There... did you really want to come to my pity party?" he finished harshly. (He'd used that phrase far too often lately; he didn't like it any more than the emotion.) "I've nothing to complain about really... they were right to think about Adam. People have this need to help a child, they understand the responsibility -"

"No excuse." Amos couldn't stand it any longer. "We let you down, Tony. Someone should have noticed." He didn't miss the flicker of _something_ that crossed the younger man's face. "What? What are you thinking?" Tony shook his head slightly, and didn't answer. "Yeah, yeah, you don't want to say." He went stern. "Look. It's not a pity party, you need to let it out, and that means all of it."

He waited.

"I... told you nobody even looked at me... but _Gibbs_ did... complained that I hadn't done as I was told. He looked... But he didn't _see_..."

_Ah... now we have it. _"Everyone else could have not noticed, and you'd have shrugged it off, but not Gibbs._ He_ didn't notice, and that's what's hurting you. Tony, what's that grouch ever done to deserve a man like you caring about him?"

Tony rolled carefully onto his back, to better look his friend in the eyes. "He wasn't always like this, Amos," he defended. "He's been through a lot – there was an explosion, he lost his memory... first ones he got back were some really bad ones..."

"Which of _course_ gives him the right to put _you_ through it. Doesn't answer my question."

The younger man shook his head. "I have 'abandonment issues'," he said, lifting his right hand from where it lay on the warm blanket to make a quote sign. "Thought when Gibbs took me on it'd never happen again..." "His brain switched tack unexpectedly. "But I'm not a quitter," he muttered thickly. Suddenly beyond tired or coherent, he gave up trying to explain anything, and Amos could see he'd had enough.

"Well," he said after a moment, "I was there, and I went off with everyone else, which I shouldn't have, and I feel bad about – sshh, I do – but it doesn't mean that _I _don't care what happens to you, you know that. Maybe your boss is the same... he does care, but he's too messed up to show it right now." He sighed. "You need to sleep, son. I'll look in on you later and you'd better be. We'll fetch you for breakfast in the morning."

He waited to see if Tony had anything else to say, but he just gave him a tired smile, so Amos left, switching the light off and silently vowing to come back in half an hour.

Tony lay back; the matter of the Doctor's bill had never been discussed – he knew the Frames would deal with it and he'd have to get tough about paying it back... but that was for later...

He was alone at last; what he'd most wanted and most dreaded. The half moon filled the room with a pale, sad light, which faded whenever a cloud raced across it; he watched, making pictures out of cloud-shapes until his eyes ached. He looked back inside the dark loft, adjusting to the different light; the brightest thing in the room was the bandage round his chest. Wonderful. He pulled the blanket up to hide it, took a deep breath, closed his eyes and reran what Amos had said, to stop himself from thinking anything else.

Abandonment... He refused to think about his father. Wendy... He could have been married by now... two kids and a big lunk of a hound...

Looked like he just had to suck it up until Gibbs _wasn't_ messed up any more, whenever that might be. He just had to _be_ there – although he wasn't sure how he'd stand it... he wondered if he had an ally in Tim now. "I'm not a quitter," he muttered again, as sleep crept up on him.

NCISNCISNCIS

Tim had written his report on the Betteridge case as he sat in the car, and mailed it to himself at the yard; now he checked it over and mailed a copy to Gibbs, then tried to check his phone without being seen doing it. The Boss dropped heavily into his chair and powered up his computer, and Ziva began to work at hers; it was already almost ten o'clock, after a long day, and the oppressive silence that hung between the three of them would only end, Tim thought, if they could all go home as soon as possible. Wrong.

"Gibbs," Ziva said, "Do we write a report on searching for the missing child?"

"It wasn't a case, Ziva," Gibbs said, less tetchily than he would have to Tony, or even Tim. "Just something DiNozzo got us involved in."

"And where is Anthony?" Ducky inquired, coming into the bull pen in his street clothes. "I've been waiting to check him over. Don't tell me that young man has managed to sneak away without seeing me."

Gibbs looked up with a puzzled frown. "Why would you want to check him over, Dr. Mallard?"

Now it was Ducky's turn to look bewildered, but his voice fairly crackled. He hadn't made _his_ peace with the returning Senior Agent, not by a long way. "I was approached by the Director, Special Agent Gibbs; she wished me to ascertain just how long Anthony's injuries were likely to keep him off duty. He claimed it would only be a couple of days when he phoned, a riding accident, he said; and knowing him as we all do, she presumed he was understating things. I must say, she seemed less concerned about his condition than the fact that she had work for him that she'd been wishing for him to begin immediately." That brought a frown from Gibbs. Nobody disregarded his agents like that...

Ducky's voice dropped to a mutter as he went off into a train of thought. "She seemed irritated... as if the boy hasn't got enough on his plate just now... but really, he must know I'd want to see him... Where_ is _Anthony?" he finished loudly.

"What do you mean, injuries?" Gibbs asked, and Tim's heart sank. Either the Boss's short-term memory was as screwed as his long-term, or he really didn't know.

"He got hurt, Boss," he said as calmly as possible. "Ziva, didn't you tell him? When I asked you to fetch him?"

The Israeli looked puzzled. "I believe I did, Gibbs. I said that the little boy had blood on him, and that he said it was Tony's."

The Boss said slowly, "I thought... when he didn't turn up...I thought the kid must have been exaggerating... I thought when we couldn't find him he must be sulking somewhere..."

Ducky looked at him as if his moustache had started crawling round his face like a caterpillar. "And what might he have been sulking about, Special Agent Gibbs?" he thundered. "Will somebody kindly tell me what has happened and W_here Is Anthony_?"

Gibbs struggled with a maelstrom of feelings. Nobody disregarded his agents like that..._ except him_.

Ziva looked from one man to the other, and then at Tim, and said slowly, "You never answered me when I asked why he did not want to be found, Tim."

"No, I didn't." Tim stood up slowly, turned to the ME, and _did_ tell him what had happened, in painful detail. When he came to reporting Gibbs' comment there was a suppressed snort from the doctor; when he came to the admission that he'd helped Tony to hide, he half expected an explosion, from the Boss, but none came. Gibbs was wrestling just then with the fact that his SFA 'didn't want to be within a hundred miles of him.'

"I didn't know he was hurt until Adam said so," Tim reproached himself. "But it doesn't matter... somebody – like, me – should have thought to check... there were enough of us there... he must have thought nobody gave a damn... and he told me it wasn't my _fault_!"

Ducky pursed his lips. "And you thought," he said coldly, "that by helping him to hide you were doing him a favour? Keeping him from medical treatment?"

Tim's chin went up. "Medical help was at hand, Dr. Mallard, if you recall. Tony had apparently reported that Adam wasn't hurt, but they called for an ambulance anyway. I was doing what he asked me to. I don't know what Tony's done to make any of you think he can't make his own judgements – or decisions." He felt a little bit guilty at that – it wasn't so long ago that he was riding comfortably on the bandwagon behind the Boss.

Well, he reflected, he wasn't being called Probie any more, and if Tony was easing up on the attitude then so would he. So it was Tony's teasing and hazing that had put his defences up in the first place... but before that he'd _had_ no defences... Tony teased, he acted superior back... Actually, he didn't really care now if he _was_ called Probie... how crazy was that? They'd go on doing what they did, he concluded, and be entirely comfortable with it. He wondered if the SFA would also realise there'd been a sea-change.

"My report's done, Boss; if there's nothing else I'm going home. If we don't catch a case, I could go back up there in the morning, see if I can find him..." he knew damn' fine well where Tony would be... "offer him a lift back."

Gibbs said nothing, and Tim started towards the elevator. "A sorry tale," he heard Ducky begin before the door closed on him.

"A sorry tale Timothy had to tell. Do you not realise, Agent Gibbs, that but for Anthony you wouldn't have had a team to return to and take away from him?" Still Gibbs said nothing, staring at a spot about a foot in front of his nose.

Ziva said quietly, "I had not thought of it that way, Ducky. If he had not stepped up to the gate, we would all have been reassigned..." Ducky didn't try to correct her.

Gibbs stood up abruptly. "Ziva," he said, "contact the local ambulance service, see if you can find out if he was taken to hospital. Call me. When you're done, go home." He strode out, leaving Ducky and Ziva simply staring helplessly at each other.

NCISNCISNCIS

Tony's watch, when he'd fumbled around the floor by his bed to find it, told him ten in the morning. He'd slept, deeply it seemed, for a full twelve hours, and felt physically a lot better, although that might end when he tried to move.

He pushed himself up on his good elbow, disturbing the still air in the little room, and froze. No... he breathed deeply, and then a second time, but only to confirm what he knew _couldn't_ be so. The room was empty, but in the air there hung an unmistakeable aroma: bengay, bourbon, sawdust.

TBC

**AN: Not quite sure of the 'Tony's thoughts section... you know the feeling that you've overlooked something...**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: Thank you again, the kind people who sent messages but weren't logged in, and one shy person who always messages (she knows who she is,) all the alerts and favourites...the encouragement is so much appreciated. Logged in people, heck, thanks again!**

**I've tried to get into Gibbs' head a bit, although we won't get Tony's take on it until next chapter. See what you think.**

Weekends With Doris

Chapter 6

Gibbs wasn't even sure what he was doing crouched here on the side of the hill, looking down at the stables... he hadn't been sure where he was going as he'd hurried away from the bull pen last night towards the front entrance; he just couldn't stay where he was. Something was wrong; he'd made a huge error of judgement, going by the story McGee had told, and the way the junior was standing up to him. Except it wasn't a story, was it... and his own part in it covered him in a lot less than glory.

Waking up in the hospital as the man he'd been _then_, the grief fresh, and raw, and devastating, his _girls,_ his two wonderful girls gone for ever... trying to reconcile all that with someone he apparently was _now_, and didn't remember, he hadn't wanted that, why should he? He knew they all blamed him for fleeing from a situation that overwhelmed him... But the thing about the flight to Mexico was – _ he'd come back. _He'd rejoined the present, in response to a plea from a girl he discovered he _owed_... and you can't both rejoin and reject the present at the same time, Jethro. He winced – that last thought arrived with Ducky's accent. He was here, and it was time he accepted that –

"_Special Agent Gibbs!" A voice called to him from the front desk, relief and recognition in its tone. Simon Townley handed the visitor's badge back to the guard. "It's OK... I can talk to him here, thanks..."_

"_Townley – how's your son? He OK?"_

"_No, Agent Gibbs, he's not -"_

"_I thought they said he wasn't hurt!"_

"_He's not. Physically he's fine, but he's worried about Tony, and we can't find anything out. He wasn't taken to any of the local hospitals; Amos Frame said he'd call me but he hasn't..."_

"_You've checked? The hospitals?"_

"_I had to. Adam saw the blood on the serape, and he's afraid Tony's **dead **because no-one seems to know. I've left a kind neighbour sitting with him, but he won't go to bed, and he's supposed to go back to school tomorrow... I thought Tony must have come back to DC with you. Is he here?"_

_Gibbs didn't know how to answer that. "No... no he's not. He stayed behind – seemed to want to." His phone buzzed. He listened for a moment. "OK, go home. Get some rest." He disconnected. "He was treated by the EMTs at the scene for cuts and bruises, but refused to go to hospital. Didn't say where he **was** going. But he's not dead, Mr. Townley."_

_Simon thought for a moment. "The day we first met him he said he used to work for a marine. Was that you?"_

_"Yeah..."_

_"And now he's working for you again."_

"_Yeah."_

"_I thought a Marine never leaves a man behind."_

_Gibbs was in too much of a turmoil to be offended. "Couldn't bring him back if he didn't want to come," he said mildly._

"_Did you find him? You were going to your car last I saw."_

_The slight belligerence in the young Marine's tone peeved Gibbs just a bit. "Mr Townley, you seem to be taking an almighty lot of interest in **my** agent."_

"_Well, **yeah**..." _

A few moments later he'd known the whole story of the Townleys' first meeting with DiNozzo, and the details of the rescue as Adam had told them to his father. Gibbs winced. He hadn't given DiNozzo a chance to tell _him, _not that he supposed he would have done. Never took anything seriously, never one to seek praise when he'd done good. _So he must have done good sometimes for me to remember... _

It also seemed clear that the local man – Amos Frame, did he say? – who he'd casually given the job of assigning search parties, the job he wouldn't even trust to his own agent – knew more than he'd been prepared to say. Seemed like DiNozzo was putting his trust in strangers these days... hell... seemed like strangers thought more of his SFA than _he_ did.

"Tell Adam it was just cuts and bruises, like the paramedics said; and I'll be in touch," he'd told the young father. "I'll find him." He'd hurried off, leaving Simon Townley thinking "WTF?"

Gibbs had thoroughly abused the big agency car, of course, retracing the journey he'd completed not an hour earlier in the opposite direction; even so it had been late when he reached Duet again. His thoughts during the drive had ranged from anger, through bewilderment and guilt, tagged on to a bit of fear, and back to anger again.

What was he angry about? What wasn't he. DiNozzo for not trusting him and going missing. Unreasonable... and he wasn't going to list the reasons why, because that led to the guilt. Still anger... at DiNozzo for disregarding instructions and getting hurt. Poor instruction though, given out of spite... back to the guilt. What the hell had the guy done to inspire it? The spite? He'd felt anger... watching DiNozzo strutting around ordering his team about. _His_ team! Ack, come on, Jethro, what did you expect?

More anger … fury at the holes in his memory – worse than Mike Franks' roof – and the difficulty of patching them... Not unreasonable, but pointless – it was done. Anger at himself for hurting the man who'd always stood by him... he had, hadn't he? Guilt again. Anger... bitter, bitter rage at his beloved girls for leaving him. Anger at fate for plunging him back into that terrible time. At himself and everyone else, especially the smiling DiNozzo, for staying when they were gone.

Bewilderment that he hadn't seen all this shook him... and so did fear of where it was going to take him. _So you've suddenly decided you want to keep the guy... more fool you if you're too late._

His first intention had been to find the Frames' place and ask Amos what he knew. Two things held him back; first off, it was late and the ageing couple, who were probably regularly up with the dawn attending to their animals, wouldn't appreciate a late night visitor. And then, of course, if Tony had told them he didn't want to see his boss, and they wouldn't tell him anything... he wasn't the sort of character to take humiliation lightly. No, if DiNozzo wasn't coming back, he needed to hear it from him; besides, he thought ruefully, the kid deserved the opportunity to tell him where to go.

Hiding the sedan in thick brush, he approached the trail-riding centre on foot, keeping to the shadows whenever the moon came out. If his SFA wasn't here, he'd have to rethink... but this was the place where Tim had implied his colleague was happy. He came to chill... needed to chill...

From a pool of darkness beyond the paddock fence, Gibbs watched as Amos Frame carried a Mexican saddle from the tack room across to the kitchen door of the house; his heart slalomed as his sniper's long-sight noticed the burst of tiny silver stars on the side of the saddle-horn, and then the dark stain on the strapping. That was the saddle he'd seen on DiNozzo's horse. He'd noticed that, but not the state of his agent... Amos had left the door open, so Gibbs knew he'd be back, and waited.

He could see motion sensors on some of the boxes, but since Frame was moving around he thought the rustler alarm wasn't yet set for the night. He worked his way round the back of the rank of boxes, intending to dash across the space between it and the other rank that faced it, to get across to the house. He was hoping that the alarm hadn't been turned on there yet, and that a look through a lighted window might show him where his agent was.

He was just about to make the dash for the next pool of cover, when Amos came from the kitchen again. Gibbs shrank back into his patch of darkness, and heard the tack room door being closed. He held absolutely still as the man came round to the back of the building, where there was another door, closed and darkened. He went in without switching a light on, leaving the door ajar, and Gibbs heard the unmistakeable sound of feet climbing a bare wooden stair.

He noticed that this door had no motion sensor anywhere near, although it was directly behind the tack room. There was a window with frosted glass next to it, and Gibbs deduced shower or toilet. It was logical that you wouldn't alarm a doorway that people might have to use at any hour of the day or night depending on what was going on in the yard. There was a skylight let into the roof, and as his eyes fell on it Gibbs' stomach lurched. There was nothing but his gut to tell him him so, but he'd found DiNozzo.

The light didn't go on upstairs, and after a short while, Gibbs heard the footsteps coming down again.

Amos sighed with relief as he came down from the loft. The patient was curled up on his right side, the blankets neat... he clearly hadn't moved, and he hadn't reacted to someone coming into the room; so hopefully he was getting the sort of deep sleep he needed. He'd leave him now until morning.

As he stepped out of the door, Sally came round the corner of the building. Her hair, greying now but still with chestnut highlights, was loose around her shoulders, instead of in the plait she used to keep it out of the way on a working day. He caught a glimpse of the pretty, feisty champion rodeo rider she'd been when he fell for her, and smiled fondly. She misunderstood.

"I guess he's all right then?"

"No need to whisper, Sass, he's dead to the world. Whatever Steven put in that painkiller, it worked. We'll see how he is in the morning, but I'm inclined to let him sleep all day if that's what he needs. Come on, let's turn in."

"You going to leave that saddle in the kitchen all night?"

"Thought it was beyond cleaning, but it'll be fine. Just needs a new latigo – most of the blood was on Tony's clothes."

"You're telling _me _that? I've washed everything... going to have to patch that shirt..." Their voices faded as they went back towards the house.

In Iraq, the local kids had called Gibbs Khayal... ghost... he could enter a room where a whole family slept, check for hidden weapons, and leave again without anyone knowing he'd ever been there. One agent on a heavy painkiller dose - no problem... and yet his heart was in his mouth as he went silently up the stairs. For all his bravado about giving DiNozzo a shot at him, he really didn't _want_ to talk to him yet... he hadn't a clue what to say. Sorry? Sorry I was riled because you were dong my job ? Doing it well, for all the strutting? Sorry I took it out on _you_ because _they're_ gone?He didn't damn do sorry.

He stopped at the top of the stairs, and forced himself to take stock of the tiny room, in order to leave it exactly as he found it, before looking at the figure curled up on the cot. In the Corps he'd been able to lay a hand on a sick marine's forehead without disturbing him; and a light touch told him his agent wasn't fevered. He listened to the steady breathing, wondered why that was important, and nearly lost it as he seriously recalled the y pestis.

Of course he'd remembered about it in an abstract way, but now he heard that breathing in his mind.

_Oh God, Tony..._

He calmed down with an effort. This had been such a stupid idea. He turned to throw himself silently back towards the staircase,and stopped himself with an effort. Chicken now too? He lifted a folded sweat top from the single chair in the room, checking exactly how it lay before moving it, and sat down quietly.

He had no idea how much time passed while he sat, not really thinking anything, or deliberately reaching for memories, as he watched Tony sleep. Mostly he reran things he'd already recalled, but some of the things that came into his mind he was pretty certain he was remembering for the first time. Being chased down a back street in Baltimore by a kid whose mouth ran as fast as the rest of him... and then, _'ya don't waste good...' _He nodded to himself. How near had he come?

The younger man stirred in his sleep, and Gibbs tensed, but he simply shifted his position and settled again. His Boss noted ruefully the amount of bandage that the shift exposed, and pulled the blanket up over his shoulders again.

He pressed the light button on his watch – soon be dawn. He'd go back to his car, nap until it was what other people thought was a civilised hour, phone Simon Townley. Let Tim and Ziva know Tony was OK, then what? Give him more space? Turn up casually here to see if he was ready to return, and did he want a lift? He didn't like indecisive, didn't _do_ it, but he'd have to wait on all that for a while. He left almost as unnoticed as he'd arrived. Doris flicked her ears and huffed as she dozed, as something crossed her equine dreams, but nothing stirred in the yard.

NCISNCISNCIS

Tony sat on the edge of his bed, arms on his knees, hands dangling. He wasn't imagining it. What the f...reaking hell was going on? Gibbs had been here. Why wasn't he here now? Why come while he was asleep... Did he just want to check the days events hadn't killed him? Was still alive to fire?

He knew that was foolish and borderline hysterical, and pushed it aside. A guy who'd brought himself up learned self-control early, and he could do it when he needed. But stopping the next thought took more doing. He came... does it mean he cares? How dangerous is it to let yourself get carried away on that one, Anthony? He breathed deeply. If he cared, why did he go again?

He realised there were any number of reasons... Gibbs might be as uneasy about talking to him as he was about talking to _Gibbs. _It was going to have to happen... he went carefully down to the tiny shower room, and looked longingly at it, but settled for a wash. No shave – he'd stay stubbly for now. He grinned – hung over the towel rail were his cords and shirt, washed and dried, the shirt also neatly patched. Bless Sally – apart from the sweats he hadn't brought a change of clothes... he hooted when he found his boxers there as well.

Amos said from the doorway, "Your jacket's beyond repair... but we've plenty of serapes... you need a hand dressing?"

"I'll pass."

"You won't pass on breakfast, though?"

Clearly, Amos didn't know about Gibbs... Tony decided not to mention it in case the older man went for the shotgun he kept for rustlers. "Bring it on – I'm hungry. And sore. But not too bad..."

"So put your damn sling on."

Gibbs pointed the agency car towards the highway. He'd called everyone in DC; he'd phone later, and come back tomorrow... it wouldn't be fair just to turn up out of the blue... _'Chicken,' _Shannon's voice told him severely, so he turned the car round. He wasn't ready for this... his gut wasn't reassuring him Tony _was_ either. He returned the car to its hidden parking spot, and began to walk back, then turned again to retrieve a set of binoculars from the trunk. He had no idea why he was going about things in this way; he told himself that a Marine would gather intelligence before going into a situation, but he still felt a little crazy as he hunkered down in the long grass.

Tony said 'Good Morning' to Doris before going over to the house for Sally's home-made bread, toasted to perfection and dolloped with her own marmalade. She was just wrapping some bread and treacle in foil. Tony looked at it in astonishment. "I thought you'd tell me I couldn't ride today."

Sally was severe. "And you'd go right ahead anyway. We trust Doris." Tony put his good arm round her, and kissed the top of her head.

"Hey," Amos said. "Get your own!"

Little as he liked the idea, Tony had to accept Sally's help in saddling Doris, and then his embarrassment was complete as she insisted on his using the mounting block. The fact that she was right didn't help. But a gentle ride with Doris was just what he needed, and he was smiling as they headed towards the back gate that led to the trails. As they passed through it, he stiffened. "Whoa, girl," he said softly, and she did, instantly. Her rider looked out towards a low, grass covered slope maybe three hundred yards away. He didn't see it again, but he knew what it was, and who it was... and having known Gibbs as long as he had, he knew _why_ it was too. This was going to be up to him... or down to him... semantics, Anthony.

He stared hard at the spot that he'd seen the flash of reflection coming from, and nodded slowly. Turning Doris back into the yard, he said "Guys, I need another horse."

Sally said "Is Doris OK?" in alarm.

"She's fine, Sal. I mean, another horse as _well. _Please."

Amos came out of a box. "Gibbs?" he asked. He was leading a showy copper chestnut he'd been saddling up ready for exercise. "Take Jezebel," he said at once, handing up her reins. "She's not been worked for three days, she's full of herself. I hope she dumps him on his ass."

The other mare had a blonde mane and a wide blaze, and really did look like Champion the Wonder Horse – if slightly overweight – but, Tony insisted, she wasn't that smart. Not as smart as his Doris. They set off again, with Jez bouncing alongside, and before they were half-way to the foot of the hill, Tony had spotted Gibbs walking down towards them. He stopped alongside him, with a cheerful smile.

"Fancy a trail-ride, Boss?"

"Sure... why not."

Tony handed Jezebel's reins over, and waited while Gibbs climbed aboard. He knew the Marine was a good rider, but he still looked pointedly at the latigo just in case the Boss had forgotten. Despite Amos's sentiments, Tony didn't think it was a good idea to inflict the old sideways saddle trick on him. Gibbs caught on and tightened the cinch.

They set off up the trail, Doris in the lead, and Tony was quite aware that two pairs of eyes watched them out of sight.

Gibbs kept looking as if he wanted to say something, but he was having to hold back an over eager Jezebel which made it difficult. In the end Tony took pity on him. As they came to Doris's favourite stretch of running trail, he drew her back. "After you, Boss..." The copper coloured horse leapt forwards, and the darker one followed, at a slightly more sedate pace. She was taking good care of her human.

After a long gallop, Gibbs slowed down, and waited under the shadow of the fragrant pines until Tony caught up. "You all right, DiNozzo?"

"Not up for a full gallop just now, but yeah, I'm fine." He looked the Boss straight in the eyes. "Slept really well last night... wouldn't have heard a thing."

"How did you know I was there?"

"Smelled bourbon and sawdust when I woke up. And bengay. Horse liniment works just as well, ya know, doesn't cost as much. Did you let me see the binoculars deliberately?"

"I... don't know. Look, Tony..."

"Boss," the younger man said calmly, "you don't have to talk right now. Can if you want... but this is a trail ride... right now, inhale, smell, listen, feel the sunshine, pat your horse, look around, catch the views... just _ride._"

**AN: Had to get this up quick as VP2000's coming up tomorrow, for a Tonyful couple of days while her hubby does exciting racing car things down the road. Much talking, drooling, not much writing!**


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: Thanks again to those who reviewed but weren't logged in – thanks too, to those unsigned friends who reviewed the vpmuz1k creation!**

**Thanks too, since this is the only way to say so, to megamom who's currently ploughing her way through all my stuff, brave lass, but has disabled PMs – I can't say it personally, but thank you for showing such interest!**

**On with Doris... bit of miaow Ziva, don't say you haven't been warned!**

Weekends With Doris

Chapter 7

In DC, the phone lines had been hot. Gibbs had called Tim, Jenny and Simon Townley. Amos had called Simon, with apologies for leaving it so long. He'd also kept Tim in the picture, explaining that Tony was fine, but sleeping, so Tim let Ducky and Abby know that.

Once he'd calmed Abby down, Tim had also phoned Jenny just in case Gibbs hadn't; she asked if Tim knew when the other two agents would be returning, as Gibbs had ignored the question. All Tim could do was to assure her she'd know as soon as he did. She told him to ask for more man-power if he needed it, and didn't ask how Tony was.

Simon Townley had called Tim, but neither could add anything new, and now they were all as wise as each other. The young agent put his phone down with a sigh, to find Ziva watching him. She had been listening carefully, surmising the other halves of the conversations she'd heard, and she was curious.

"The Director..." she said slowly, "she wishes us to continue without Gibbs or Tony? She is not taking us off rotation?"

"It's good that she thinks we're OK to continue, Ziva. She said to ask if we needed help, but she didn't force it on us."

"But... she did not ask about Tony's injuries? Only when he and Gibbs would be back?"

Tim shrugged. "She has the whole agency to run I guess," he said. He knew he didn't sound particularly convinced or convincing, but then, he wasn't a liar by nature.

"But... many others do care about him, yes? Amos, and his wife, are looking after him... and The Marine, and his son, they are concerned enough to call."

Tim didn't know why he answered as openly as he did. "If they hadn't called me, I'd have called them, Ziva. I care about him too."

Ziva nodded thoughtfully. "Why..." she hesitated, and Tim put his pen down and gave her his full attention. "Why did Gibbs go to him, after he had said he did not want to be near him? Did you not say that we ought to realise Tony is capable of making his own decisions?"

"Tony's not a quitter," Tim said. "I should have realised that – if he were, the Boss wouldn't have had a team to come back to. No idea where I'd be now. Maybe you'd still be around... you have this secret you share with Gibbs – and no, I'm not asking, but don't think I haven't noticed – which might have been enough to keep you here even with him gone... I don't know. There's lots I don't know, I'm at the end of the information line... but I _do _know, if the team's still important to Gibbs, he needs to tell Tony so – or he'll think his work for that four months didn't matter. Tony _and_ the team will all suffer."

"He was insufferable those four months, Tim!"

"I know. I heard you tell Gibbs that, and I agreed."

Ziva frowned; McGee didn't sound as if he were agreeing.

"Tim, he stormed around trying to be Gibbs until we made him stop, and then he just became dull! Never a joke, or a smile, just...just..._ efficiency_! We could have _done_ with some of his humour."

"Yeah, well, so could he." Tim picked up his pen again, and Ziva realised she would get no more out of him.

She sank into thought. Tim cared about Tony... was he suggesting she did _not_? Just because she could have run rings around him if she had been made team leader did not mean she did not care what happened to him. Part of the problem was, she knew, that she was sexually attracted to him, whether she liked it or not, and she did not. Ziva David liked to choose who she found attractive, not just have it happen. If things had been different, she would have taken him to bed by now, shown him who was boss, got it out of her system, and never have had to give it another thought.

And why would Tony need some of his own humour? Why would he think his work did not matter? He had held the team together for Gibbs had he not? Did he need to be constantly told? _Someone_ must have let him know...

The secret that bound her to Gibbs, and her gut twisted as she was reminded that it wasn't quite the secret that Gibbs _thought _it was, would not have been enough to keep her in DC; but Jenny had wished it, and she had no sooner adjusted to being on Gibbs' team than she had found herself on DiNozzo's.

And it functioned well... or they would all have been reassigned. She might have found herself back in Tel Aviv, and at the mercy of her father. The father who wanted Ari dead, and because she was there, and his handler, had ordered her to do it, rather than send an assassin.

She had heard the conversation with Gibbs where her half-brother had labelled himself a monster... hearing him she had understood that although his outward service was to Al Qaeda, his inner core cared for nothing and no-one but himself. But he was still her brother, and to curry favour with Jenny Shepard and the USA, her father had made her pull the trigger. She knew he would not hesitate to require other things just as horrific from her again...

She got up unhurriedly, and walked calmly to the ladies room; once inside, she leaned against the door and pressed both hands over her mouth to muffle the shriek that rose from her throat. She was beginning to realise there were far, far worse people to meet, and worse places to be than around the insufferable Tony DiNozzo.

NCISNCISNCIS

They rode in what Gibbs was surprised to find seemed like... what was the word people used... companionable, that was it, companionable silence. The silence of companions who were at ease. He wondered if he was completely wrong, and Tony was just leading him far enough away from civilization to kill him where his body would never be found. Lots of reasons why not, the foremost being that the younger man looked as if he was still on his horse thanks to determination and the animal's kindness. He couldn't kill a horsefly right now.

And no, the longer the ride went on, the more easily the Marine breathed, both literally and emotionally. Where the trail was wide enough, they rode side by side, and occasionally Tony would point something out. After a while Gibbs relaxed enough to do the same. The smell of the forest, the birdsong and the easy gait of the horses were all mesmerising. He noticed that sometimes his own mount, Jezebel, Tony had said – did that mean she wasn't entirely trustworthy? Wouldn't be good for a commercial stables to keep a mean saddle horse... and somehow, he felt Tony wouldn't put him on something he thought he couldn't handle. Whatever... she would sometimes crowd Tony's mare, and the big, plain, dark brown horse would huff a clear warning that made her back off again.

"She's looking after me, Boss," Tony said cheerfully. "Doesn't want to have to make any sudden moves."

"She's that smart?" Gibbs asked in astonishment.

"Better believe it," the SFA said confidently.

Gibbs didn't know if he did, but it was only when he thought about it that he realised Tony hadn't stopped calling him 'Boss'.

The only warning note sounded when they came to a side trail going off to the right. Someone had made a crude notice from a piece of board, and hung it with bent wires from a low branch. 'Belinda's Mill', it said, with an arrow.

Tony went to ride straight past it.

"Ya don't want to show me?" Gibbs asked in astonishment. "I kinda thought that was where we were going." Tony looked slightly nettled, and the other man held up a hand. "No... forget that... you never do brag when you've got good reason to."

Now Tony was the astonished one. "You remember that?" The Marine nodded. "Oh. Ah... Well, no... we got somewhere else to be." He clicked his tongue and Doris ambled on.

The trail narrowed, and Gibbs let Jezebel fall behind. He was pretty certain that Tony could feel his eyes on him, but neither man said anything. Gibbs drifted back into his thoughts.

He remembered... Tony was brave; he wasn't a pushover. He'd stand up to him any time he felt it was necessary. Only thing he wouldn't do was call him out in front of others, and that was for respect and courtesy... and _liking? _You don't publicly embarrass a friend? Or diss them behind their back to another team member, he added, and suddenly he couldn't hear the birdsong or smell the pines any more. Respect... friendship... he'd always had these things from Tony, and he could remember now when he used to return them. What had changed?

He reached back to some of the memories he'd recalled as he sat watching his SFA sleep – every twitch or change in breathing pattern had made him anxious, until it resolved and the dreamer settled again. He'd worried and fretted... he cared for the guy, so _what had changed? _

When they got wherever they were going, he decided, he'd invite Tony to ask whatever he wanted, and he'd be completely honest in his answer. _What are you letting yourself in for, Jethro? _Well, it was the only way – and maybe in finding some truth to tell Tony he'd come up with some answers to his own questions.

Tony, in spite of the generally relaxed feeling he hoped he was exuding, rode on ahead with his stomach alternately in his mouth or his boots. It was the most well travelled it had been since Kate... and before that Wendy... stop it. If there was ever a quicker way to destroy his precarious faith in himself he wouldn't know what it was... He _was_ Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, if he weren't, he'd never have got through the last weeks, and if he were going to get through the next hours without taking the team, Gibbs and himself apart, that was who he had to stay.

A few minutes later, they reached their destination, and as they emerged into Belinda's Secret, Tony tried not to be too obvious about observing Gibbs' reaction.

The stream was quite full and loud after the previous day's rain, which had also brought a new lease of life to the heal-all and stitchwort, making drifts of white and palest purple at the edges of the wood. The sun was bright after the half light of the forest, and set the water shining. Tony smiled to himself as he watched Gibbs look round with approval – couldn't be better.

He slid very carefully down from his saddle; unlike Jez who hopped around, Doris stood still for him. Course, he hadn't thought until now about getting back _up_ again... When he turned, digging in his pocket for treats, he saw that Gibbs was already out of the saddle, and prudently hanging on to his reins. Tony shared the sugar lumps so that Gibbs could reward his horse too, then looped the ever present lariat round his starry saddle horn, and gave the other end to his Boss. "If you tie it to her bridle," he said seriously, "Doris won't let her stray."

Gibbs had no choice but to believe him, and to his astonishment, neither mare had a problem with the arrangement, both settling down to make short work of the stitchwort at once. He saw that Tony was struggling to open the saddle-bag one handed, and said, tentatively, "I can do that if you like."

"Sure," Tony said, and stood aside. "There's only a couple of power bars – I wasn't expecting to come out here, or I'd have brought lunch." Gibbs followed him as he wandered over to the creek, where a huge, battered oak that had escaped the loggers because of its hollowness and many twists, spread its roots out like a skirt. It was dryer than the surrounding grass, and Tony sat carefully down on one spur. Gibbs took his place on the next one.

"It's a long ride when you're only half-way fit – what made you decide to come here?"

"It's my _secret,_ Boss. It's one of my favourite places – I never bring anyone else here."

Gibbs nodded, and didn't answer. That was a positive message, and pretty clear, but damage had been done, and he wasn't going to take anything for granted.

"Why are you so damn forgiving, Tony? Why aren't you yelling at me?"

"You ever known me yell at you, Boss?" He paused. "You're different. I thought you must be when I realised you'd been in my den."

"Different how? From before I went, or from since I came back?"

Tony thought. "Both, I guess. A bit more like the old Gibbs, but not. You had the lid on a lot of things then. And you're trying to put it back."

Once again Gibbs couldn't find the word to answer, and settled for nodding. They chewed on their snacks for a while, as Gibbs gazed around the beautiful spot. Finally, he asked something that had first occurred to him last night – he wasn't sure he'd like the answer, and he felt it might provoke the storm that maybe DiNozzo _needed_ to let loose... so better get it over with.

"This place..." he gestured towards the wren-brown mare, "Doris... you love all this, but you never told me about it."

"No, I didn't," Tony said so softly he almost missed it.

"So..." gently, "any reason why not?"

Tony leaned his head back against the tree, eyes shut. The expression on his face was pained and hard to read. His eyes snapped open, and met Gibbs' full on. "Because it's important...because... I was afraid that if you knew, you'd make difficulties."

The Marine opened his mouth to deny it, and closed it again, and Tony went on. "I discovered it all by accident, at a time when I needed _ something. _I figured if you stopped me, I'd have nothing... It 'd have been even harder to work, the atmosphere would have been terrible... I wouldn't have quit, waiting for something to change...I won't quit, but I'd just have gone on feeling horrible until I made a mistake... I had to protect this for everyone's sake."

Gibbs steadied himself. "Waiting for something to change – I guess you mean waiting for me to come to my senses... how were you so sure I would?"

Tony took a few calming breaths – he was suddenly aware that the bandaging wrapped round his torso to protect his side also had the unwanted effect of restricting his breathing. "You had to, Boss," he finally said intensely. "You... you'd been through such a lot... it wasn't surprising that you – that_ things _changed... you were still you when you left, even if you were in bits... When you came back – I remembered the Gibbs who brought me back from Baltimore after Danny, told me I was good, when I was wondering how he'd been on the take right in front of me and I hadn't seen it... got me through the whole Wendy thing... If I'd believed the Gibbs who came _back_ was the real you now, for ever, I don't think I could have stood it. So I waited."

Gibbs was stunned. "Aw, hell, Tony..." He wanted to tell the kid he didn't deserve him, he was sorry, he was like a son to him; he wasn't the sort who could, and he suspected right now it'd be received with scepticism if he did. He ran his hand over his face, and as he did so, he remembered his promise. "I can't figure a lot of things," he said in the end. "I'm getting there, but I'm still between then and now."

Tony nodded. "I understand that," he said. "But..."

"Look... I've put you through it -"

"You were going through it."

"Will ya stop that? You shouldn't forgive me!"

"Not sure I have yet!"

Gibbs held out a soothing hand, noticing the difficult breathing and the slight pallor. "OK... that's fine... look, I'll try to explain – just don't know if I can. Don't understand things myself. Ask. Ask me anything. Anything at all, I'll try to answer."

Tony stood up, none too easily, bent and picked up a stone. He lobbed it into the creek and watched the ripples being swallowed up by the fast moving water. He didn't turn back towards Gibbs for a few moments; when he did, his face was set, and stony. "All right," he said. "All right – why me? Why _only_ me?"

He pitched another stone, but this time he didn't turn away. "Why the put-downs? Why the baiting? Why did you encourage the other two to join in? I _know_ when I've done a bad job, and I hadn't. There were times when one of the others did, and I got the blame! 'Oh, it must have been Tony'..."

"McGee had a go at me because of it yesterday," the Boss said matter-of-factly, "I snarked at _him_ cause you weren't there... guess he stood in your shoes for a minute – he spent the rest of the day telling me off one way or another."

"Wow," Tony said.

"I'm not changing the subject – just telling ya. I... I don't know. Been thinking about it... while you were asleep. I thought... I had the idea you needed constantly reining in, don't know why... I came back and you were doing fine with my team – my vanity would have preferred that you weren't... then I overheard someone – can't remember who – remarking that you wouldn't be strutting round like a peacock any more, decided that must be what you were like. Can't explain it any better than that."

He paused. "I remember_ now,_ that you always took my moods... let 'em slide off you – steered me away from the rest of the team. Maybe I just remembered that it was OK to yell at you..."

"Coulda done without them joining in..." Tony said painfully. "You said I could ask you anything... but I already worked it out... you liked the way they followed your lead... did your ego good. You did it, so it must be all right for them too, you saw them copy you, and it felt great."

He turned away so Gibbs couldn't see his face twisting; another stone was hurled into the creek, then another. "DiNozzo in his place, no threat... corralled by your cowboys... am I right?" He stood still, his back to Gibbs, waiting for the admission. The voice came from at his elbow.

"I saw you as a threat, yes. Jenny thought you were good enough for your own team -" Tony jerked round to face him.

"What?" He fought to breathe.

"She never could keep a secret from me." Gibbs' tone was as apologetic as his SFA was ever likely to hear. "Figured you must have stayed to take my team from me instead." Tony looked at him, speechless, breathing hard. The Boss put two fingers along his jaw to make sure he couldn't turn away. "It was stupid. I was wrong. I'm sorry."

"Boss..." Tony's knees gave way, and Gibbs put an arm under his shoulders to lower him gently to the ground.

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Well done ytteb, who was the only one to spot something about Jezebel...**

**I like to break things up with a bit of 'meanwhile, back at the ranch', but I decided to just get on with it. Apologies if the ending's a bit rushed... it's 4 am.**

**Spoilers for Faking It.**

Weekends With Doris

Chapter 8

Muttering encouragement, Gibbs struggled to steer his collapsing Senior Agent back to the tree-root. The grass was still wet, and he wasn't keen on lying Tony down, soaking him and being responsible for giving him pneumonia. The younger man's legs were like rubber, but he still tried to help, and his Boss finally got him slumped with his back to the oak tree.

Tony panted frantically, only capable of small breaths, and needing more air than he could get; the bandage that had been just fine when he wasn't exerting himself, now felt like a straight-jacket around his ribs. Spots danced in front of his eyes and he felt dizzy and nauseous; he couldn't draw enough breath to tell Gibbs what was wrong.

The Boss was pretty sure anyway; he struggled to get Tony's sling off, and his shirt unfastened quickly without ruining the careful, loving patches that Sally had worked. As soon as he had done, he drew his knife, and Tony squinted curiously through vision that reminded him of static on a TV screen. Should Gibbs coming at him with a Hunter worry him? Somewhere in his fragmented awareness he chuckled. How long had it been since he did that? The tip of the silvery blade slipped under the bottom of the dressing, and sliced it neatly all the way to the top. Part of it adhered to the SFA's left side; the rest of it fell away from his chest, and the semi-conscious man sucked in a series of great, shuddering breaths.

"Thanks, Boss," he wheezed faintly. He began to fall sideways, so Gibbs eased alongside him, intending to prop him up just until he could sit on his own. However, his natural nosiness, coupled with the fact that Tony was in no state to protest and would avoid telling if asked, got the better of him. He sat at DiNozzo's right side with his arm slid around his back, and it was easy for him to reach across and push the left side of the patched shirt away, and ease the bandaging from the wounds where he could.

He frowned. Not deep, not serious, but weeping a bit. Messy. Very messy.

"Like what you see, Boss?" The teasing voice was about a quarter its usual volume.

"Can't say I do," he answered severely. "How many stitches you got under there?"

Tony sat up, with a bit of help from Gibbs. "Boss, I have no idea. How d'you know I had stitches?"

Ack, he'd forgotten how sharp Tony was, even on depleted oxygen."Frame told McGee. McGee told me." He made another attempt to move the dressing, but it was stuck to the younger man's side, so he left it, pulling the edges together, and then the shirt. He'd find some way to hold it in place when it became necessary. "Need a drink?"

"Yeah..."

Gibbs went to his saddlebag, where he knew he'd find water; Jezebel skittered away from him, like the awkward female she was, until Doris made one of those noises that proclaimed she was the boss, and the copper chestnut calmed down, but for a bit of head tossing. Tony's wry laugh drifted across to him. "She's a redhead, Boss." He was glad his face was turned away from the younger man, as he couldn't keep the wrung-out expression off it.

He remembered... DiNozzo's jokes weren't the empty-headedness he'd assumed; they were a skilful way of reducing tension... and in this case... forgiving? Building bridges? The Marine almost leaned his forehead against his saddle, but there was nothing wrong with Tony's long-sight – and in any case he didn't trust the 'red-head' mare not to move suddenly. Doris, on the other hand, was keeping half an eye on her human, as he realised she had been every time he'd ever looked at her. He was being given a lesson in loyalty by a damn _horse_!

There were times in life where causing pain, or having pain caused for you was unavoidable... but in his attempts to deal with his own agony, he'd _deliberately_ hurt, and hurt again one of the most decent human beings he knew, who'd never done a thing to hurt him. Not a good feeling, Jethro.

He rearranged his expression and brought the canteen across, and took a gulp himself after DiNozzo had taken what he needed. Silence fell for a while, only softened by the purposeful munching of the horses. After a while, it was Gibbs who broke the silence. "Ya feel better now?"

"Yeah..." Tony tugged at the edge of the dressing under his open shirt. "I didn't realise how tight this was, until it was too late." He paused, then raised downcast eyes to his boss's. "Helluva revelation there, Boss," he said softly. He didn't say he didn't believe it; Gibbs had already said it wasn't true, and he wasn't going to have him think he wasn't to be taken at his word. "Cost a lot to say it."

"I promised. You... should be mad at me, Tony!"

"I was never angry, Boss!" the SFA protested. "I may have vented a bit, but only to Doris." Neither man was surprised when the mare looked up at the sound of her name. Everything was fine; back to lunch. "I was never mad," Tony repeated seriously, "just hurt. OK... no, I _was _mad – I called you a quitter when you were gone – but that was because I wanted you back."

"Ya did?"

"Oh, yeah," Tony said, and met Gibbs' eyes, his voice so casual the pit of the other man's stomach turned to ice. "Just, not the way it happened." His listener couldn't think of a thing to say, and just sat, bracing himself.

"It was never _my_ team to try to take from you, Boss. They didn't regard themselves as my team, and anyway, I had a feeling you'd be back; I was ready."

"Ya said _I _didn't come back."

"You know it. The old Gibbs wouldn't have piled my stuff back on my desk without saying _something_... or made fun of me in front of the others, and they had a field day when you did. OK, that hurt, but I _did_ let the guy take the car, and I _didn't_ realise my recorder was bugged, so what did I expect... But hell, it wasn't when things were at their worst that I'd missed you the most, so I was used to getting by with the bad stuff."

"Jenny told me you'd done good... I wasn't taking her seriously enough to listen."

Tony shrugged. "It figures... if you thought I was a threat, you wouldn't have wanted to hear I'd done well."

"_Tony._.." Gibbs shook his head.

"Not trying to make you feel bad, Boss... honesty's no fun, is it? I can't say I ever imagined me feeling better by making you feel worse..." He leaned forwards earnestly. "You _weren't yourself. _Don't see how you could have gone through what you did and come out the other end with your head on straight... remember me after Wendy?"

The Senior Agent nodded. "Well yeah, but -"

Tony leaned back again, wincing slightly. "Look," he said heavily, "I said I didn't_ feel _worst when times _were_ worst... I missed you most when I'd done good."

Gibbs blinked, seriously surprised for the second time in five minutes. "Ya did?" he asked again.

"Sure." He stretched his long legs out in front of him and tried to look laid-back. "Not wanting to sound needy or anything here, Boss... You've never been one to say much but when I did really well on something, it'd be a look, or a grunt, or an 'attaboy'... the reassurance that you still thought I was the 'good' you brought back in your luggage from Baltimore. That was all I needed. I missed that."

Gibbs ran his hands through his hair. "You've always been 'the good', Tony." He paused as the worst realisation of the day struck him. "Last night... you needed an attaboy... sheesh... no wonder you didn't want to be within a hundred miles of me."

"How – oh, McGee. He sure _must_ have told you off! Yeah, I _was_ mad last night..." The green eyes flashed – with _humour_? "But I'm all right now."

"Because I got careless and you knew I was here?" Gibbs was incredulous.

"Because you came."

There was a long silence, and just as last time, Gibbs was the one to break it. "So... anything else you want to say?"

Tony grinned impishly, and pulled at the edge of the dressing. "Yeah... how'm I going to fix this?"

"Tony..." this time Gibbs' tone was reproachful. The SFA tried to climb to his feet without pushing with his left arm, so his Boss grabbed his elbow to help him. As they stood face to face, Tony went serious.

"Hey... I'm not saying everything's wonderful... that you're going to instantly feel great, and things are suddenly going to be better overnight. But it's more than a start. We can talk... or I can talk and you can grunt –" the head-slap was almost feather-light, and the SFA's grin was dazzling – "not that you don't grunt perfectly politely of course... it _will_ get better from here on in, Boss." He paused, then said quietly, "Er... anything else _you_ want to say?"

"Sure. Lift your arm a bit." Gibbs had pulled the drawstring from the bottom of his jacket, and began to thread it around Tony's torso, under his shirt, to hold the sliced up dressing in place. "OK... can you still breathe?" Tony just nodded, watching the proceedings dubiously. "It'll hold for now, DiNozzo. Till I can get you to Ducky. Ya need help with the shirt?"

"No, Boss, I'm fine, Boss..." he fumbled his way through fastening the buttons.

"Good. Now put your sling back on." Tony looked at the offending object with distaste as Gibbs held it out to him, but took it anyway. The Marine helped him to get it comfortable, looking like he'd done it many times before. "There." After a moment, he added, "Yeah, there's something I want to say." He put his hand on the younger man's good shoulder. "Thanks, Tony."

The SFA smiled, and nodded thoughtfully, and for once was silent himself.

Without conscious communication, they moved towards the horses. It was time to go. Gibbs took Jezebel's reins, and untied the lariat from her nose-band. Tony coiled the rope, using the hand that stuck out of the sling to help, and hung it back on the saddle horn. He tried not to laugh as Jez gave the Boss a very hard time, turning in small circles around him as he tried to get his foot in the stirrup to climb aboard.

In the end Gibbs roared, "Will you quit that!" and amazingly, the 'redhead' horse did. Once in the saddle, he threw Tony a look that said, _ 'right, now let's see how you do it.' _

"You want to go for a paddle, girl?" Tony had it figured; he couldn't use his left arm to haul himself up, but with Doris standing in the stream, pushing happily at the water with her nose, and him on the bank, a good two feet higher, he could practically step into his saddle. He threw the Boss a smirk, and they set off down the mountain, in a silence that, although thoughtful, this time truly was companionable.

NCISNCISNCIS

The trip to look over an old crime scene was only marginally helpful, but it got the two back in DC out of the Navy Yard for an hour; the place was becoming oppressive. As they returned, Tim's phone buzzed, and Ziva went on ahead. When he got back to his desk, she was already looking at the cold case file again; at least, her eyes were on it, but her mind wasn't.

"That was Simon Townley," he told her. "He's seen Gibbs and Tony."

"Gibbs and Tony... together?"

"So he said."

"They have not killed each other?"

"No," Tim said. "They've been trail riding together. They offered to take Simon and Adam next free weekend they have. Adam's finally reassured that his hero's safe and well. His dad called to say thanks for our part in the rescue."

"Well... that is...good." Ziva was silent for a moment, then said, "I may have misjudged Tony."

"You didn't think he was capable of being heroic?"

"No, that is not what I meant. He inspires liking and trust in people... what is it I have not seen?"

"I'm still puzzled," Tim said. "Are you saying you don't like him or trust him?"

"No, McGee! You are putting words onto my tongue. I... I do not know what I mean," she ended lamely. Tim decided the best thing to do was wait. He knew he'd set her thinking earlier on, but had no idea where her thoughts were taking her.

"You said that Tony could have done with some of his own humour. We did not make it easy for him. He held us together. But I did not see anyone holding him. I only thought of how infuriating he is, not of how much he _does_." (She was not going to tell Tim, or anyone, about her gratitude that she was not at risk of having to return to her father; that would involve explaining why she did not want to.) "Or what he feels."

"Nobody's perfect," Tim said. "None of us. Not me, not you, not Tony -"

"You have not mentioned Gibbs."

"And certainly not Gibbs. One thing I know though... you'll hear no recriminations from Tony over this."

"We left him – he must feel... negligible..."

"Neglected. I told you what he said... that it wasn't our fault... anyway, he and Gibbs are on their way back."

"We are still a team, then?"

"It looks like it, Ziva. We're still a team."

NCISNCISNCIS

The day's party of riders had returned, and the Frames were seeing to their mounts, when Gibbs and Tony came down the trail. As they'd come down into the stable yard, Amos had watched them, and decided he didn't have to go for the Purdey. The boy looked better than he'd seen him in weeks, for all that he'd been out far longer than he should have been in his condition. While he didn't feel that he and Sally, and Doris, were completely finished with their joint role as a coping mechanism, he had a feeling they'd be able to spend more time just as friends now.

After exchanging a few – a very few – polite words, and offering to take care of his horse, which Amos said he'd do, Gibbs patted the temperamental chestnut, and went off to fetch the car. Only right that Tony should have the chance to say whatever he wanted to Amos and Sal without him hovering...

"It's OK, Amos..."

"That the truth, son?"

"Yeah, it is. Doesn't mean I'm not going to be around any more, though."

"I should hope not, DiNozzo," Amos growled. Sally just hugged him.

Amos lifted Doris's saddle down, and took it into the tack room as Tony led the mare into her box. She nudged him affectionately, and he suddenly, and without warning, found his eyes filling. "You're a good ol' gal, Doris," he told her softly, and she huffed gently. _Same to you. _

It was inevitable that when they stopped, both ravenously hungry, at Tony's favourite diner, they should run into Simon and Adam Townley. In the chaos of the previous night they'd left a lot of stuff at the camp and had to go back for it.

"Hey," Liz said cheerfully, "the place is full of my favourite fellas." She threw in a free plate of pancakes with the order, taking a motherly pleasure at the change in the tow-headed little boy. The older guy was a puzzle, she thought. Was he Tony's dad? There was certainly a strong bond there, but the man's eyes were sad. As they all went their separate ways, she hoped it wasn't the last she saw of them.

NCISNCISNCIS

Life went on; tentatively, they _were_ a team again. There was a new equilibrium. The DiNozzo brashness re-emerged; attempts at banter by all three younger team members were cautious at first, but became bolder. Tony only put up with desk duty for two days, before hounding Ducky into giving way on the matter of his stitches.

Which was how it was that he was back in the field when a dead petty officer in a car and some very unsavoury Russian mafiosi brought the return of Mike Franks into their lives – to Tony's great unease and disquiet. He'd nothing against the guy, but he hadn't liked the results the last time he was around, and now being cold-cocked by the said Russian mafia when he was supposed to be on protection duty... he wondered what the Boss would say when he found out.

Gibbs was kindness itself, dashing over to his house, where his second in command had been left on his face in the back yard, to check on him, but then he'd disappeared again. By the time Tony arrived at that scruffy little cantina, it was all over...

The figure walking away in the distance was Franks... the dead as hell guys were the Russian thug Korbach and presumably a goon. Tony was familiar with the sounds of different guns... and the sequence of shots... and as he put two and two together, suddenly boom went the new equilibrium, and the back of his head began to hurt like blazes. He rubbed it, and glared at Gibbs. No wonder he'd come running...

"It was Franks, wasn't it, Boss. You just let him get away with murder, right?" And he read on Gibbs' face that he _was_ right. Angry? Not much. "What were you _thinking_ of? I thought we... Don't you at least trust me enough to have me along?"

"To be an accessory to murder? No."

That was logical enough to take the wind out of his sails, but he was still stung. "And..." he went on, bristling with righteous indignation, "you knew it was him! You let him get away with braining me!"

Gibbs touched his cheek in that way he had. "Well, DiNozzo," he said comfortingly, "if it had been anyone else, I'd have shot them."

There was really no answer to that.

The End

**AN: I don't really feel secure about this from when they got back to the stables... maybe I rushed a bit.**


End file.
